THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

DAVIS 


GIFT  OF 

THE  PIERCE  FAMILY 


HISTORIC    LANDMARKS 
OF    AMERICA 


BOOKS  BY  MISS  SINGLETON 

TURRETS,  TOWERS,  AND  TEMPLES.     Great  Buildings  of  the 

World  Described  by  Great  Writers. 
GREAT  PICTURES.      Described  by  Great  Writers. 
WONDERS  OF  NATURE.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
ROMANTIC    CASTLES    AND    PALACES.      Described    by   Great 

Writers. 

FAMOUS  PAINTINGS.      Described  by  Great  Writers. 
HISTORIC  BUILDINGS.      Described  by  Great  Writers. 
FAMOUS  WOMEN.      Described  by  Great  Writers. 
GREAT  PORTRAITS.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
HISTORIC    BUILDINGS    OF    AMERICA.     Described   by   Great 

Writers. 

HOLLAND.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
PARIS.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
LONDON.     Described  by  Great  Writen. 
RUSSIA.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
JAPAN.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
VENICE.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
ROME.     Described  by  Great  Writers. 
A  GUIDE  TO  THE  OPERA. 
LOVE  IN  LITERATURE  AND  ART. 
THE  GOLDEN  ROD  FAIRY  BOOK. 
THE  WILD  FLOWER  FAIRY  BOOK. 
GERMANY. 


Historic  Landmarks  of 
America 


As  Seen  and  Described 
by  Famous  Writers 


COLLECTED    AND    EDITED    BY 

ESTHER    SINGLETON 


With  Numerous  Illustrations 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

1907 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFpKMtt 
DAVIS 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

Published  October,  IQO? 


Preface 


ONE  of  the  most  striking  features  of  American  history  is 
the  fact  that  the  greater  number  of  important  events  have 
occurred  amidst  bold  and  beautiful  scenery.  It  has,  there 
fore,  been  my  aim  to  present  in  this  volume,  a  number  of 
the  most  picturesque  and  important  pilgrimage  places  in 
America — places  that  are  doubly  famous  for  their  beauty  and 
historical  associations. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  include  within  the  covers  of  a 
small  book  every  scene  that  justifies  the  name  of  a  Land 
mark  of  American  History.  I  have,  therefore,  in  my  selec 
tions,  endeavoured  to  take  the  reader  on  as  long  and  varied 
a  trip  as  possible,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Coast, 
from  Canada  to  Mexico,  from  Maine  to  Florida,  and  down 
the  Mississippi  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  New  Orleans,  not 
omitting  a  few  inland  towns  such  as  Mexico  and  Santa  Fe, 
Denver  and  Chicago,  that  represent  the  oldest  and  the 
newest  phases  of  civilization  in  the  Western  Hemisphere. 
I  have  also  ventured  to  include  a  short  description  of  my 
own  of  a  town  of  entirely  different  type — the  much  neg 
lected,  but  very  charming,  remnant  of  Colonial  days — An 
napolis. 

In  addition  to  cities,  I  have  included  lakes,  bays,  straits, 
mountains,  islands,  harbours,  plains,  and  rivers  that  have 
formed  the  stage-setting  for  most  dramatic  episodes.  Fa 
mous  battlegrounds,  such  as  Bunker  Hill,  Saratoga,  Lexing- 


vi  PREFACE 

ton,  the  Brandywine,  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  and  Gettys 
burg,  have  demanded  their  share  of  attention,  while  places 
famous  for  raids  and  skirmishes,  such  as  the  Alamo  and 
Harper's  Ferry,  have  also  been  included. 

I  have  also  followed  the  footprints  of  many  of  the  great 
explorers — Columbus,  Henry  Hudson,  Cortes,  Sir  George 
Somers,  Sir  Thomas  Gates,  Samuel  de  Champlain,  Fathers 
White,  Hennepin,  and  Marquette,  Joliet,  Ponce  de  Leon, 
Jean  Ribault,  Rene  de  Laudonniere,  Jacques  de  la  Metairie, 
Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  Smith,  Gosnold,  Masse,  Baird, 
Biencourt,  Newport,  Poutrincourt,  and  others,  whose  cour 
ageous  expeditions  into  the  wild  forests  of  the  Red  Man 
prepared  the  way  for  civilization.  Four  important  Indian 
characters  also  appear  in  these  pages — Powhatan,  Poca- 
hontas,  Pontiac,  and  King  Philip. 

The  reader  will  doubtless  notice  the  preponderance  of  the 
fort  among  the  landmarks.  This  is  explained  by  the  fact 
that  nearly  every  American  town  had  its  origin  in  the  little 
stockade  first  built  for  protection  against  the  savages  and 
later  as  a  redoubt  against  French  or  English  foes.  These 
are  eloquent  testimonies  to  the  far-sightedness  of  the 
French,  English,  and  American  generals  and  explorers,  who 
planted  their  garrisons  in  such  commanding  positions. 
Many  of  these  sites  have  now  become  great  cities,  such  as, 
for  instance,  Pittsburg  and  Detroit,  and  many  of  these  old 
forts — such  as  Fort  Marion  in  St.  Augustine,  Niagara, 
Ticonderoga,  West  Point,  Michilimacinac,  etc.,  are  among 
the  most  picturesque  sights  that  America  offers  to  the 
traveller. 

The  earliest  colonists  have  not  been  forgotten :  the  Spanish 
settlements  in  California  and  Florida,  Oglethorpe's  in  Sa 
vannah,  and  the  English  settlements  in  Plymouth  and  James- 


PREFACE  vii 

town  have  not  been  forgotten.  It  is  interesting  to  compare 
Gardiner's  instructive  account  of  the  Founding  of  James 
town  with  Irving's  sympathetic  article  on  the  Bermudas, 
which  shows  how  closely  Prospero's  magic  isle  is  linked  with 
American  history,  and  gives  lovers  of  The  Tempest  an  added 
interest  in  that  exquisite  play. 

My  appreciative  thanks  are  extended  to  Messrs.  Little, 
Brown  &  Co.  for  permission  to  use  the  extract  on  Lake 
Champlain  from  Pioneers  of  France  in  the  New  World;  to 
Messrs.  J.  B.  Lippincott  for  permission  to  reprint  Aitken's 
Sault  Ste.  Marie  from  Lippincott s  Magazine;  and  to  the 
Overland  Monthly  for  allowing  me  to  include  Miller's 
Santa  Fe. 

E.  S. 

NEW  YORK,  September,  1907. 


Contents 


PAGE 

THE  BERMUDAS i 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

YORKTOWN          .......       10 

LORD  CORNWALLIS. 

MANHATTAN   ISLAND  .         .         .         .         .15 

DAVID  T.  VALENTINE. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  WATERFALLS      ....       22 
GEORGE  N.  CURZON. 

BUNKER  HILL 35 

DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

TlCONDEROGA        .......         40 

BENSON  JOHN  LOSSING. 

LAKE  CHAMPLAIN 51 

FRANCIS  PARKMAN. 

SAN  FRANCISCO  .         .         .         .         .         -57 

JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE. 

THE  CHESAPEAKE  BAY 64 

FATHER  ANDREW  WHITE. 

MEXICO  71 

HERNANDO  CORTES. 
ix 


x  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ST.  AUGUSTINE  ......       78 

GEORGE  R.  FAIRBANKS. 

DENVER 88 

GEORGE  W.  STEEVENS. 

LAKE  GEORGE 92 

T.  ADDISON  RICHARDS. 

PLYMOUTH   ROCK 102 

JOHN  GORHAM  PALFREY. 
FORT  NIAGARA    .......     109 

S.  DE  VEAUX. 

THE  BRANDYWINE       .          .          .          .         .         .113 

BENSON  JOHN  LOSSING. 

THE  MISSISSIPPI  RIVER 121 

JARED  SPARKS. 

CHICAGO  .         .         .         .         .         .  134 

GEORGE  W.  STEEVENS. 

BOSTON   HARBOUR 141 

CHARLES  KNIGHT. 

SARATOGA 146 

E.  S.  CREASY. 

SAULT  STE.  MARIE 154 

ISAAC  AIKEN. 

LEXINGTON 159 

HENRY  B.  DAWSON. 

SAN  SALVADOR    .......     167 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


CONTENTS  xi 

PAGE 

WEST  POINT 172 

BENSON  JOHN  LOSSING. 

THE  ACQUISITION  OF  LOUISIANA  .         .         .182 

JACQUES  DE  LA  METAIRIE. 

GETTYSBURG 189 

JAMES  SCHOULER. 

ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA          .         .         .     195 
EDWARD  DUFFIELD  NEILL. 

NEWPORT 201 

T.  ADDISON  RICHARDS. 

THE  PLAINS  OF  ABRAHAM 211 

JOHN  KNOX. 

DETROIT 216 

J.  T.  HEADLEY. 

THE  ALAMO       .......     226 

HENRY  BRUCE. 

SAVANNAH 229 

BENSON  JOHN  LOSSING. 

HARPER'S  FERRY 237 

JOHN  G.  ROSENGARTEN. 

MACHILIMACINAC 248 

HENRY  B.  DAWSON. 

NARRAGANSETT 253 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  JAMESTOWN         .         .         .     261 
SAMUEL  RAWSON  GARDINER. 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

FORT  Du  QUESNE      ....,.,..     270 
E.  SARGENT. 

ST.  JOHN'S  RIVER       ....,.,        ,.:    279 
GEORGE  R.  FAIRBANKS. 

MONTEREY 284 

LADY  MARY  HARDY. 

ANNAPOLIS          .......     290 

ESTHER  SINGLETON. 

THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  MOUNT  DESERT  .         .         .     295 
WILLIAM  D.  WILLIAMSON. 

SANTA  FE" 300 

CLARENCE  A.  MILLER. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  BATTERY,  NEW  YORK  .  .  .  Frontispiece 
VILLAGE  OF  ELBRA,  BERMUDA  .  .  Facing  page  2 

YORKTOWN  HARBOUR  ...  "  10 

EL  CAPITAN,  YOSEMITE  VALLEY  .  "22 

BUNKER  HILL  MONUMENT  .  "36 

RUINS  OF  TlCONDEROGA  ...  4O 

LAKE  CHAMPLAIN  ....  "52 
SAN  FRANCISCO  "  "58 

CAPE  HENRY,  VIRGINIA  ...  64 

MEXICAN  SCENE,  TAMPICO  .  "72 

FORT  MARION,  ST.  AUGUSTINE  .  .  "78 

DENVER "  "88 

ROGERS'  SLIDE,  LAKE  GEORGE  .  "92 

PLYMOUTH  ROCK  ....  "  102 

OLD  FORT  NIAGARA  ...  "no 

THE  BRANDYWINE  ....  "114 

A  MISSISSIPPI  RIVER  LANDING  .  "122 
MADISON  STREET  FROM  FIFTH  AVENUE, 

CHICAGO  ....  "  134 

BOSTON  HARBOUR  ....  142 
BATTLE  MONUMENT,  SCHUYLERVILLE, 

N.  Y.  .  "  146 

THE  LOCKS,  SAULT  STE.  MARIE  .  154 

THE  GREEN,  LEXINGTON  ...  "  160 

SIEGE  BATTERY  DRILL,  WEST  POINT  .  "172 

NEW  ORLEANS  FROM  THE  HARBOUR  .  "182 

LITTLE  ROUND  TOP,  GETTYSBURG  .  "190 

MlNNEHAHA    FALLS                ...  "       196 

xiii 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

NEWPORT  HARBOUR  .  .  .  Facing  page  202 
WOLFE'S  MONUMENT,  PLAINS  OF 

ABRAHAM  "  "  2i2 

DETROIT "  "216 

THE  ALAMO  ....."  "  226 

SAVANNAH "  "  230 

STRAITS  OF  MACKINAC  ..."  "  248 

INDIAN  ROCK,  NARRAGANSETT  "  "  254 
HAMPTON  ROADS  FROM  NEWPORT 

NEWS "  "262 

PlTTSBURG "  "      270 

ON  THE  ST.  JOHN'S  RIVER,  FLORIDA  .  "  "  280 

MIDWAY  POINT,  MONTEREY  "  "  284 
ARTILLERY  DRILL,  U.  S.  NAVAL 

ACADEMY,  ANNAPOLIS  "  "  290 
BAR  HARBOUR  FROM  GREAT  HILL, 

MT.  DESERT  ISLAND  ..."  "  296 

THE  PLAZA,  SANTA  F£  .  .  ...  "  "  300 


THE   BERMUDAS 

WASHINGTON   IRVING 

"  Who  did  not  think,  till  within  these  foure  yeares,  but  that  these 
islands  had  been  rather  a  habitation  for  Divells,  than  fit  for  men 
to  dwell  in?  Who  did  not  hate  the  name,  when  hee  was  on  land, 
and  shun  the  place  when  he  was  on  the  seas?  But  behold  the 
misprision  and  conceits  of  the  world  I  For  true  and  large  experience 
hath  now  told  us,  it  is  one  of  the  sweetest  paradises  that  be  upon 
earth."  A  Plaint  descript.  of  the  Bermudas  (1613). 

IN  the  course  of  a  voyage  home  from  England,  our  ship 
had  been  struggling,  for  two  or  three  weeks,  with  per 
verse  head-winds,  and  a  stormy  sea.  It  was  in  the  month 
of  May,  yet  the  weather  had  at  times  a  wintry  sharpness, 
and  it  was  apprehended  that  we  were  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  floating  islands  of  ice,  which  at  that  season  of  the  year 
drift  out  of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  and  sometimes  oc 
casion  the  wreck  of  noble  ships. 

Wearied  out  by  the  continued  opposition  of  the  elements, 
our  captain  at  length  bore  away  to  the  south,  in  hopes  of 
catching  the  expiring  breath  of  the  trade-winds,  and  making 
what  is  called  the  southern  passage.  A  few  days  wrought, 
as  it  were,  a  magical  "  sea  change  "  in  everything  around 
us.  We  seemed  to  emerge  into  a  different  world.  The 
late  dark  and  angry  sea,  lashed  up  into  roaring  and  swashing 
surges,  became  calm  and  sunny;  the  rude  winds  died  away; 
and  gradually  a  light  breeze  sprang  up  directly  aft,  filling 
out  every  sail,  and  wafting  us  smoothly  along  on  an  even 
keel.  The  air  softened  into  a  bland  and  delightful  tempera 
ture.  Dolphins  began  to  play  about  us;  the  nautilus  came 


2  THE   BERMUDAS 

floating  by,  like  a  fairy  ship,  with  its  mimic  sail  and  rainbow 
tints;  and  flying-fish,  from  time  to  time,  made  their  short 
excursive  flights,  and  occasionally  fell  upon  the  deck.  The 
cloaks  and  overcoats  in  which  we  had  hitherto  wrapped  our 
selves,  and  moped  about  the  vessel,  were  thrown  aside;  for 
a  summer  warmth  had  succeeded  to  the  late  wintry  chills. 
Sails  were  stretched  as  awnings  over  the  quarter-deck,  to 
protect  us  from  the  midday  sun.  Under  these  we  lounged 
away  the  day,  in  luxurious  indolence,  musing,  with  half- 
shut  eyes,  upon  the  quiet  ocean.  The  night  was  scarcely 
less  beautiful  than  the  day.  The  rising  moon  sent  a  quiver 
ing  column  of  silver  along  the  undulating  surface  of  the 
deep,  and,  gradually  climbing  the  heavens,  lit  up  our  tow 
ering  top-sails  and  swelling  main-sails,  and  spread  a  pale, 
mysterious  light  around.  As  our  ship  made  her  whisper 
ing  way  through  this  dreamy  world  of  waters,  every  bois 
terous  sound  on  board  was  charmed  to  silence;  and  the  low 
whistle,  or  drowsy  song,  of  a  sailor  from  the  forecastle,  or 
the  tinkling  of  a  guitar,  and  the  soft  warbling  of  a  female 
voice  from  the  quarter-deck,  seemed  to  derive  a  witch 
ing  melody  from  the  scene  and  hour.  I  was  reminded  of 
Oberon's  exquisite  description  of  music  and  moonlight  on 
the  ocean: 

"Thou  remembrcst 
Since  once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory, 
And  heard  a  mermaid  on  a  dolphin's  back, 
Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath, 
That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song; 
And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 
To  hear  the  sea-maid's  music." 

Indeed,  I  was  in  the  very  mood  to  conjure  up  all  the 
imaginary  beings  with  which  poetry  has  peopled  old  ocean, 
and  almost  ready  to  fancy  I  heard  the  distant  song  of  the 
mermaid,  or  the  mellow  shell  of  the  triton,  and  to  picture  to 


THE    BERMUDAS  3 

myself  Neptune  and  Amphitrite  with  all  their  pageant  sweep 
ing  along  the  dim  horizon. 

A  day  or  two  of  such  fanciful  voyaging,  brought  us  in 
sight  of  the  Bermudas,  which  first  looked  like  mere  summer 
clo'ids,  peering  above  the  quiet  ocean.  All  day  we  glided 
along  in  sight  of  them,  with  just  wind  enough  to  fill  our 
sails;  and  never  did  land  appear  more  lovely.  They  were 
clad  in  emerald  verdure,  beneath  the  serenest  of  skies;  not 
an  angry  wave  broke  upon  their  quiet  shores,  and  small 
fishing  craft,  riding  on  the  crystal  waves,  seemed  as  if  hung 
in  air.  It  was  such  a  scene  that  Fletcher  pictures  to  him 
self,  when  he  extolled  the  halcyon  lot  of  the  fisherman : 

"  Ah !  would  thou  knowest  how  much  it  better  were 

To  bide  among  the  simple  fisher-swains: 
No  shrieking  owl,  no  night-crow  lodgeth  here, 

Nor  is  our  simple  pleasure  mixed  with  pains. 
Our  sports  begin  with  the  beginning  year; 

In  calms,  to  pull  the  leaping  fish  to  land, 

In  roughs,  to  sing  and  dance  along  the  yellow  sand." 

In  contemplating  these  beautiful  islands,  and  the  peace 
ful  sea  around  them,  I  could  hardly  realize  that  these  were 
the  "  still  vexed  Bermooths  "  of  Shakespeare,  once  the  dread 
of  mariners,  and  infamous  in  the  narratives  of  the  early  dis 
coverers,  for  the  dangers  and  disasters  which  beset  them. 
Such,  however,  was  the  case;  and  the  islands  derived  addi 
tional  interest  in  my  eyes,  from  fancying  that  I  could  trace 
in  their  early  history,  and  the  superstitious  notions  connected 
with  them,  some  of  the  elements  of  Shakespeare's  wild  and 
beautiful  drama  of  the  Tempest.  I  shall  take  the  liberty 
of  citing  a  few  historical  facts,  in  support  of  this  idea,  which 
may  claim  some  additional  attention  from  the  American 
reader,  as  being  connected  with  the  first  settlement  of 
Virginia. 


4  THE   BERMUDAS 

At  the  time  when  Shakespeare  was  in  the  fulness  of  his 
talent,  and  seizing  upon  everything  that  could  furnish  ali 
ment  to  his  imagination,  the  colonization  of  Virginia  was 
a  favourite  object  of  enterprise  among  people  of  condition 
in  England,  and  several  of  the  courtiers  of  the  Court  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  were  personally  engaged  in  it.  In  the 
year  1609,  a  noble  armament  of  nine  ships  and  five  hundred 
men  sailed  for  the  relief  of  the  colony.  It  was  commanded 
by  Sir  George  Somers,  as  admiral,  a  gallant  and  generous 
gentleman,  about  sixty  years  of  age,  and  possessed  of  an 
ample  fortune,  yet  still  bent  upon  hardy  enterprise,  and 
ambitious  of  signalizing  himself  in  the  service  of  his  country. 
On  board  of  his  flag-ship,  the  Sea  Vulture,  sailed  also  Sir 
Thomas  Gates,  lieutenant-general  of  the  colony.  The  voy 
age  was  long  and  boisterous.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  July, 
the  admiral's  ship  was  separated  from  the  rest,  in  a  hurri 
cane.  For  several  days  she  was  driven  about  at  the  mercy 
of  the  elements,  and  so  strained  and  racked,  that  her  seams 
yawned  open,  and  her  hold  was  half  filled  with  water.  The 
storm  subsided,  but  left  her  a  mere  foundering  wreck.  The 
crew  stood  in  the  hold  to  their  waists  in  water,  vainly  en 
deavouring  to  bail  her  with  kettles,  buckets,  and  other  ves 
sels.  The  leaks  rapidly  gained  on  them,  while  their  strength 
was  rapidly  declining.  They  lost  all  hope  of  keeping  the 
ship  afloat,  until  they  should  reach  the  American  coast;  and 
wearied  with  fruitless  toil,  determined,  in  their  despair,  to 
give  up  all  farther  attempt,  shut  down  the  hatches,  and 
abandon  themselves  to  Providence.  Some,  who  had  spirit 
uous  liquors,  or  "  comfortable  waters,"  as  the  old  record 
quaintly  terms  them,  brought  them  forth,  and  shared  them 
with  their  comrades,  and  they  all  drank  a  sad  farewell  to 
one  another,  as  men  who  were  soon  to  part  company  in  this 
world. 

In  this  moment  of  extremity,  the  worthy  admiral,  who 


THE   BERMUDAS  5 

kept  sleepless  watch  from  the  high  stern  of  the  vessel,  gave 
the  thrilling  cry  of  "  land !  "  All  rushed  on  deck,  in  a 
frenzy  of  joy,  and  nothing  now  was  to  be  seen  or  heard  on 
board,  but  the  transports  of  men  who  felt  as  if  rescued  from 
the  grave.  It  is  true  the  land  in  sight  would  not,  in  ordi 
nary  circumstances,  have  inspired  much  self-congratulation. 
It  could  be  nothing  else  but  the  group  of  islands  called 
after  their  discoverer,  one  Juan  Bermudas,  a  Spaniard,  but 
stigmatized  among  the  mariners  of  those  days  as  "  the  islands 
of  devils!  "  "For  the  islands  of  the  Bermudas,"  says  the 
old  narrative  of  this  voyage,  "  as  every  man  knoweth  that 
hath  heard  or  read  of  them,  were  never  inhabited  by  any 
Christian  or  heathen  people,  but  were  ever  esteemed  and 
reputed  a  most  prodigious  and  inchanted  place,  affording 
nothing  but  gusts,  storms,  and  foul  weather,  which  made 
every  navigator  and  mariner  to  avoid  them  as  Scylla  and 
Charybdis,  or  as  they  would  shun  the  Divell  himself." 

Sir  George  Somers  and  his  tempest-tossed  comrades,  how 
ever,  hailed  them  with  rapture,  as  if  they  had  been  a  ter 
restrial  paradise.  Every  sail  was  spread,  and  every  exertion 
made  to  urge  the  foundering  ship  to  land.  Before  long,  she 
struck  upon  a  rock.  Fortunately,  the  late  stormy  winds  had 
subsided,  and  there  was  no  surf.  A  swelling  wave  lifted 
her  from  off  the  rock,  and  bore  her  to  another;  and  thus  she 
was  borne  on  from  rock  to  rock,  until  she  remained  wedged 
between  two,  as  firmly  as  if  set  up  on  the  stocks.  The  boats 
were  immediately  lowered,  and,  though  the  shore  was  above 
a  mile  distant,  the  whole  crew  were  landed  in  safety. 

Everyone  had  now  his  task  assigned  him.  Some  made 
all  haste  to  unload  the  ship,  before  she  should  go  to  pieces; 
some  constructed  wigwams  of  palmetto  leaves,  and  others 
ranged  the  island  in  quest  of  wood  and  water.  To  their 
surprise  and  joy,  they  found  it  far  different  from  the  deso 
late  and  frightful  place  they  had  been  taught,  by  seamen's 


6  THE   BERMUDAS 

stones,  to  expect.  It  was  well  wooded  and  fertile;  there 
were  birds  of  various  kinds,  and  herds  of  swine  roaming 
about,  the  progeny  of  a  number  that  had  swum  ashore,  in 
former  years,  from  a  Spanish  wreck.  The  island  abounded 
with  turtle,  and  great  quantities  of  their  eggs  were  to  be 
found  among  the  rocks.  The  bays  and  inlets  were  full  of 
fish;  so  tame,  that  if  anyone  stepped  into  the  water,  they 
would  throng  around  him.  Sir  George  Somers,  in  a  little 
while,  caught  enough  with  hook  and  line  to  furnish  a  meal 
to  his  whole  ship's  company.  Some  of  them  were  so  large 
that  two  were  as  much  as  a  man  could  carry.  Craw-fish, 
also,  were  taken  in  abundance.  The  air  was  soft  and  salu 
brious,  and  the  sky  beautifully  serene.  Waller,  in  his  Sum 
mer  Islands,  has  given  us  a  faithful  picture  of  the  climate: 

"For  the  kind  spring,   (which  but  salutes  us  here,) 
Inhabits  these,  and  courts  them  all  the  year: 
Ripe  fruits  and  blossoms  on  the  same  trees  live; 
At  once  they  promise,  and  at  once  they  give: 
So  sweet  the  air,  so  moderate  the  clime, 
None  sickly  lives,  or  dies  before  his  time. 
Heaven  sure  has  kept  this  spot  of  earth  uncursed 
To  shew  how  all  things  were  created  first." 

We  may  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  shipwrecked  manners, 
on  finding  themselves  cast  by  stormy  seas  upon  so  happy 
a  coast;  where  abundance  was  to  be  had  without  labour; 
where  what  in  other  climes  constituted  the  costly  luxuries 
of  the  rich,  were  within  every  man's  reach;  and  where  life 
promised  to  be  a  mere  holiday.  Many  of  the  common  sailors, 
especially,  declared  they  desired  no  better  lot  than  to  pass 
the  rest  of  their  lives  on  this  favoured  island. 

The  commanders,  however,  were  not  so  ready  to  console 
themselves  with  mere  physical  comforts,  for  the  severance 
from  the  enjoyment  of  cultivated  life,  and  all  the  objects  of 


THE   BERMUDAS  7 

honourable  ambition.  Despairing  of  the  arrival  of  any 
chance  ship  on  these  shunned  and  dreaded  islands,  they 
fitted  out  the  long-boat,  making  a  deck  of  the  ship's  hatches, 
and  having  manned  her  with  eight  picked  men,  despatched 
her,  under  the  command  of  an  able  and  hardy  mariner, 
named  Raven,  to  proceed  to  Virginia,  and  procure  shipping 
to  be  sent  to  their  relief. 

While  waiting  in  anxious  idleness  for  the  arrival  of  the 
looked-for  aid,  dissensions  arose  between  Sir  George  Somers 
and  Sir  Thomas  Gates,  originating,  very  probably  in  jeal 
ousy  of  the  lead  which  the  nautical  experience  and  pro 
fessional  station  of  the  admiral  gave  him  in  the  present 
emergency.  Each  commander  of  course  had  his  adherents: 
these  dissensions  ripened  into  a  complete  schism;  and  this 
handful  of  shipwrecked  men,  thus  thrown  together  on  an 
uninhabited  island,  separated  into  two  parties,  and  lived 
assunder  in  bitter  feud,  as  men  rendered  fickle  by  pros 
perity,  instead  of  being  brought  into  brotherhood  by  a  com 
mon  calamity.  Weeks  and  months  elapsed,  without  bring 
ing  the  looked-for  aid  from  Virginia,  though  that  colony  was 
within  a  few  days*  sail.  Fears  were  now  entertained  that 
the  long-boat  had  been  either  swallowed  up  in  the  sea,  or 
wrecked  on  some  savage  coast;  one  or  other  of  which  most 
probably  was  the  case,  as  nothing  was  ever  heard  of  Raven 
and  his  comrades. 

Each  party  now  set  to  work  to  build  a  vessel  for  itself 
out  of  the  cedar  with  which  the  island  abounded.  The 
wreck  of  the  Sea  Vulture  furnished  rigging,  and  various  other 
articles;  but  they  had  no  iron  for  bolts,  and  other  fasten 
ings;  and  for  want  of  pitch  and  tar,  they  payed  the  seams 
of  their  vessels  with  lime  and  turtle's  oil,  which  soon  dried, 
and  became  as  hard  as  stone. 

On  the  tenth  of  May,  1610,  they  set  sail,  having  been 
about  nine  months  on  the  island.  They  reached  Virginia 


8  THE   BERMUDAS 

without  farther  accident,  but  found  the  colony  in  great  dis 
tress  for  provisions.  The  account  they  gave  of  the  abund 
ance  that  reigned  in  the  Bermudas,  and  especially  of  the 
herds  of  swine  that  roamed  the  island,  determined  Lord 
Delaware,  the  governor  of  Virginia,  to  send  thither  for  sup 
plies.  Sir  George  Somers,  with  his  wonted  promptness  and 
generosity,  offered  to  undertake  what  was  still  considered  a 
dangerous  voyage.  Accordingly,  on  the  nineteenth  of  June, 
he  set  sail,  in  his  own  cedar  vessel  of  thirty  tons,  accom 
panied  by  another  small  vessel,  commanded  by  Captain 
Argall. 

The  gallant  Somers  was  doomed  again  to  be  tempest- 
tossed.  His  companion  vessel  was  soon  driven  back  to  port, 
but  he  kept  the  sea;  and,  as  usual,  remained  at  his  post  on 
deck,  in  all  weathers.  His  voyage  was  long  and  boisterous, 
and  the  fatigues  and  exposures  which  he  underwent,  were 
too  much  for  a  frame  impaired  by  age,  and  by  previous 
hardships.  He  arrived  at  Bermudas  completely  exhausted 
and  broken  down. 

His  nephew,  Captain  Mathew  Somers,  attended  him  in 
his  illness  with  affectionate  assiduity.  Finding  his  end  ap 
proaching,  the  veteran  called  his  men  together,  and  exhorted 
them  to  be  true  to  the  interests  of  Virginia;  to  procure  pro 
visions,  with  all  possible  despatch,  and  hasten  back  to  the 
relief  of  the  colony.  With  this  dying  charge,  he  gave  up  the 
ghost,  leaving  his  nephew  and  crew  overwhelmed  with  grief 
and  consternation.  Their  first  thought  was  to  pay  honour 
to  his  remains.  Opening  the  body,  they  took  out  the  heart 
and  entrails,  and  buried  them,  erecting  a  cross  over  the 
grave.  They  then  embalmed  the  body,  and  set  sail  with  it 
for  England ;  thus,  while  paying  empty  honours  to  their  de 
ceased  commander,  neglecting  his  earnest  wish  and  dying 
injunction,  that  they  should  return  with  relief  to  Virginia. 

The  little  bark  arrived  safely  at  Whitechurch,  in  Dorset- 


THE   BERMUDAS  9 

shire,  with  its  melancholy  freight.  The  body  of  the  worthy 
Somers  was  interred  with  the  military  honours  due  to  a 
brave  soldier,  and  many  volleys  were  fired  over  his  grave. 
The  Bermudas  have  since  received  the  name  of  the  Somet 
Islands,  as  a  tribute  to  his  memory. 

The  accounts  given  by  Captain  Mathew  Somers  and  his 
crew  of  the  delightful  climate,  and  the  great  beauty,  fer 
tility,  and  abundance  of  these  islands,  excited  the  zeal  of 
enthusiasts,  and  the  cupidity  of  speculators,  and  a  plan  was 
set  on  foot  to  colonize  them.  The  Virginia  company  sold 
their  right  to  the  islands  to  one  hundred  and  twenty  of  their 
own  members,  who  erected  themselves  into  a  distinct  cor 
poration,  under  the  name  of  the  "  Somer  Island  Society  " ; 
and  Mr.  Richard  More  was  sent  out,  in  1612,  as  governor, 
with  sixty  men,  to  found  a  colony. 


YORKTOWN 

LORD    CORNWALLISi 

I  HAVE  the  mortification  to  inform  your  Excellency  that 
I  have  been  forced  to  give  up  the  posts  of  York  and 
Gloucester,  and  to  surrender  the  troops  under  my  command, 
by  capitulation,  on  the   igth  instant,  as  prisoners  of  war 
to  the  combined  forces  of  America  and  France. 

I  never  saw  this  post  in  a  very  favourable  light,  but  when 
I  found  I  was  to  be  attacked  in  it  in  so  unprepared  a  state, 
by  so  powerful  an  army  and  artillery,  nothing  but  the  hopes 
of  relief  would  have  induced  me  to  attempt  its  defence,  for 
I  would  either  have  endeavoured  to  escape  to  New  York  by 
rapid  marches  from  the  Gloucester  side,  immediately  on  the 
arrival  of  General  Washington's  troops  at  Williamsburg; 
or  I  would,  notwithstanding  the  disparity  of  numbers,  have 
attacked  them  in  the  open  field,  where  it  might  have  been 
just  possible  that  fortune  would  have  favoured  the  gallantry 
of  the  handful  of  troops  under  my  command,  but  being  as 
sured  by  your  Excellency's  letters  that  every  possible  means 
would  be  tried  by  the  navy  and  army  to  relieve  us,  I  could 
not  think  myself  at  liberty  to  venture  upon  either  of  those 
desperate  attempts;  therefore,  after  remaining  for  two  days 
in  a  strong  position  in  front  of  this  place  in  hopes  of  being 
attacked,  upon  observing  that  the  enemy  were  taking  meas 
ures  which  could  not  fail  of  turning  my  left  flank  in  a  short 
time,  and  receiving  on  the  second  evening  your  letter  of  the 
24th  of  September,  informing  me  that  relief  would  sail  about 
the  5th  of  October,  I  withdrew  within  the  works  on  the 

1  Letter  to  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 
10 


YORKTOWN  II 

night  of  the  2Qth  of  September,  hoping  by  the  labour  and 
firmness  of  the  soldiers  to  protract  the  defence  until  you 
could  arrive.  Everything  was  to  be  expected  from  the  spirit 
of  the  troops,  but  every  disadvantage  attended  their  labour, 
as  the  works  were  to  be  continued  under  the  enemy's  fire, 
and  our  stock  of  intrenching  tools,  which  did  not  much  ex 
ceed  400  when  we  began  to  work  in  the  latter  end  of  August, 
was  now  much  diminished. 

The  enemy  broke  ground  on  the  night  of  the  3Oth,  and 
constructed  on  that  night,  and  the  two  following  days  and 
nights,  two  redoubts,  which,  with  some  works  that  had  be 
longed  to  our  outward  position,  occupied  a  gorge  between 
two  creeks  or  ravines,  which  come  from  the  river  on  each 
side  of  the  town.  On  the  night  of  the  6th  of  October  they 
made  their  first  parallel,  extending  from  its  right  on  the 
river,  to  a  deep  ravine  on  the  left,  nearly  opposite  to  the 
centre  of  this  place,  and  embracing  our  whole  left  at  a  dis 
tance  of  600  yards.  Having  perfected  this  parallel,  their 
batteries  opened  on  the  evening  of  the  gth  against  our  left, 
and  other  batteries  fired  at  the  same  time  against  a  redoubt 
advanced  over  the  creek  upon  our  right,  and  defended  by 
about  1 20  men  of  the  23rd  Regiment  and  Marines,  who 
maintained  that  post  with  uncommon  gallantry.  The  fire 
continued  incessant  from  heavy  cannon,  and  from  mortars 
and  howitzers  throwing  shells  from  8  to  16  inches,  until 
all  our  guns  on  the  left  were  silenced,  our  work  much  dam 
aged,  and  our  loss  of  men  considerable.  On  the  night  of 
the  nth  they  began  their  second  parallel,  about  300  yards 
nearer  to  us.  The  troops  being  much  weakened  by  sickness, 
as  well  as  by  the  fire  of  the  besiegers,  and  observing  that  the 
enemy  had  not  only  secured  their  flanks,  but  proceeded  in 
every  respect  with  the  utmost  regularity  and  caution,  I  could 
not  venture  so  large  sorties  as  to  hope  from  them  any  con 
siderable  effect,  but  otherwise,  I  did  everything  in  my  power 


12  YORKTOWN 

to  interrupt  this  work  by  opening  new  embrasures  for  guns 
and  keeping  up  a  constant  fire  from  all  the  howitzers  and 
small  mortars  that  we  could  man.  On  the  evening  of  the 
1 4th  they  assaulted  and  carried  two  redoubts  that  had  been 
advanced  about  300  yards  for  the  purpose  of  delaying  their 
approaches,  and  covering  our  left  flank,  and  during  the  night 
included  them  in  their  second  parallel,  on  which  they  con 
tinued  to  work  with  the  utmost  exertion.  Being  perfectly 
sensible  that  our  works  could  not  stand  many  hours  after 
the  opening  of  the  batteries  of  that  parallel,  we  not  only 
continued  a  constant  fire  with  all  our  mortars  and  every 
gun  that  could  be  brought  to  bear  upon  it,  but  a  little  before 
daybreak  on  the  morning  of  the  i6th,  I  ordered  a  sortie  of 
about  350  men,  under  the  direction  of  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Abercrombie,  to  attack  two  batteries  which  appeared  to  be 
in  the  greatest  forwardness,  and  to  spike  the  guns.  A  detach 
ment  of  Guards  with  the  Both  Company  of  Grenadiers, 
under  the  command  of  Lieutenant-Colonel  Lake,  attacked 
the  one,  and  one  of  light  infantry,  under  the  command  of 
Major  Armstrong,  attacked  the  other,  and  both  succeeded 
in  forcing  the  redoubts  that  covered  them,  spiking  n  guns 
and  killing  or  wounding  about  100  of  the  French  troops, 
who  had  the  guard  of  that  part  of  the  trenches,  and  with 
little  loss  on  our  side.  This  action,  though  extremely  hon 
ourable  to  the  officers  and  soldiers  who  executed  it,  proved 
of  little  public  advantage,  for  the  cannon  having  been  spiked 
in  a  hurry,  were  soon  rendered  fit  for  service  again,  and 
before  dark  the  whole  parallel  and  batteries  appeared  to  be 
nearly  complete.  At  this  time  we  knew  that  there  was  no 
part  of  the  whole  front  attacked  on  which  we  could  show  a 
single  gun,  and  our  shells  were  nearly  expended.  I,  there 
fore,  had  only  to  choose  between  preparing  to  surrender  next 
day,  or  endeavouring  to  get  off  with  the  greatest  part  of  the 
troops,  and  I  determined  to  attempt  the  latter.  In  this  sit- 


YORKTOWN  I3 

uation,  with  my  little  force  divided,  the  enemy's  batteries 
opened  at  daybreak.  The  passage  between  this  place  and 
Gloucester  was  much  exposed,  but  the  boats  having  now 
returned,  they  were  ordered  to  bring  back  the  troops  that  had 
passed  during  the  night,  and  they  joined  us  in  the  forenoon, 
without  much  loss.  Our  works,  in  the  meantime,  were  going 
to  ruin,  and  not  having  been  able  to  strengthen  them  by  an 
abattis,  nor  in  any  other  manner  but  by  a  slight  fraizing 
which  the  enemy's  artillery  were  demolishing  wherever  they 
fired,  my  opinion  entirely  coincided  with  that  of  the  engineer 
and  principal  officers  of  the  army,  that  they  were  in  many 
places  assailable  in  the  forenoon,  and  that  by  the  continuance 
of  the  same  fire  for  a  few  hours  longer,  they  would  be  in 
such  a  state  as  to  render  it  desperate,  with  our  numbers,  to 
attempt  to  maintain  them.  We  at  that  time  could  not  fire 
a  single  gun;  only  one  8-inch  and  little  more  than  100 
Cohorn  shells  remained.  A  diversion  by  the  French  ships 
of  war  that  lay  at  the  mouth  of  York  River  was  to  be  ex 
pected.  Our  numbers  had  been  diminished  by  the  enemy's 
fire,  but  particularly  by  sickness,  and  the  strength  and  spirits 
of  those  in  the  works  were  much  exhausted,  by  the  constant 
watching  and  unremitting  duty.  Under  all  these  circum 
stances,  I  thought  it  would  have  been  wanton  and  inhuman 
to  the  last  degree  to  sacrifice  the  lives  of  this  small  body  of 
gallant  soldiers,  who  had  ever  behaved  with  so  much  fidelity 
and  courage,  by  exposing  them  to  an  assault  which,  from  the 
numbers  and  precautions  of  the  enemy,  could  not  fail  to 
succeed.  I  therefore  proposed  to  capitulate;  and  I  have  the 
honour  to  enclose  to  your  Excellency  the  copy  of  the  cor 
respondence  between  General  Washington  and  me  on  that 
subject,  and  the  terms  of  capitulation  agreed  upon.  I  sin 
cerely  lament  that  better  could  not  be  obtained,  but  I  have 
neglected  nothing  in  my  power  to  alleviate  the  misfortune 
and  distress  of  both  officers  and  soldiers.  The  men  are  well 


14  YORKTOWN 

clothed  and  provided  with  necessaries,  and  I  trust  will  be 
regularly  supplied  by  the  means  of  the  officers  that  are  per 
mitted  to  remain  with  them.  The  treatment,  in  general, 
that  we  have  received  from  the  enemy  since  our  surrender 
has  been  perfectly  good  and  proper,  but  the  kindness  and 
attention  that  has  been  shown  to  us  by  the  French  officers 
in  particular — their  delicate  sensibility  of  our  situation — 
their  generous  and  pressing  offer  of  money,  both  public  and 
private,  to  any  amount — has  really  gone  beyond  what  I  can 
possibly  describe,  and  will,  I  hope,  make  an  impression  on 
the  breast  of  every  British  officer,  whenever  the  fortune  of 
war  should  put  any  of  them  into  our  power. 


MANHATTAN    ISLAND 
DAVID    T.   VALENTINE 

THE  first  discovery  has  been  generally  ascribed  to  Henry 
Hudson,  an  Englishman  by  birth,  who,  in  the  year 
1690,  being  then  in  the  service  of  the  Dutch,  sailed  west 
ward  from  the  shores  of  Europe,  in  search  of  a  northwest 
passage  to  the  East  Indies.  The  vessel  commanded  by  Hud 
son  was  a  small  yacht,  called  the  Half  Moon,  manned  by 
from  sixteen  to  twenty  men,  partly  of  Dutch  and  partly  of 
English  birth.  This  vessel  was  not  over  eighty  tons  burden, 
being  designed  for  coasting.  After  traversing  the  American 
coasts,  between  Newfoundland  and  the  Chesapeake  Bay,  he 
turned  his  course  northward  again,  designing  to  explore, 
leisurely,  the  extent  of  the  country  thus  passed  by.  On  the 
1st  of  September,  1609,  he  discovered  the  Highlands  of 
Neversink,  described  by  him  as  a  "  very  good  land  to  fall 
in  with  and  a  pleasant  land  to  see."  The  next  day  he 
rounded  Sandy  Hook,  and  the  second  day  following  he 
anchored  under  the  Jersey  shore  in  the  south  bay. 

The  Indians,  flocking  to  the  shore  in  great  numbers,  ap 
pear  at  once  to  have  understood  the  designs  of  their  visitors, 
for,  whether  by  tradition  or  rumour  from  other  lands,  they 
seem  to  have  been  acquainted  with  the  articles  of  trade  most 
in  use  between  the  whites  and  the  Indians,  and  were  apt  at 
driving  a  bargain.  They  offered  tobacco  and  other  products 
in  exchange  for  knives  and  beads.  Their  disposition  seemed 
friendly,  and  the  women  presented  such  articles  of  food  as 
they  had  prepared  in  that  season. 

On  the  6th  of  September,  a  boat's  crew,  despatched  by 
Hudson  to  explore  the  coast  further  inland,  entered  the 

15 


l6  MANHATTAN   ISLAND 

Narrows  and  came  in  sight  of  Manhattan  Island.  They  de 
scribed  the  land  encircling  the  bay  as  covered  with  trees, 
grass  and  flowers,  and  the  air  as  filled  with  delightful  fra 
grance.  The  return  of  this  small  party  was  unfortunate, 
as,  for  some  unexplained  reason,  the  boat  was  attacked  by 
two  canoes  filled  with  Indians,  and  one  of  the  crew,  named 
John  Coleman,  was  killed  by  an  arrow  piercing  his  throat. 
It  seems  probable  from  the  course  taken  by  Hudson,  after 
this  disaster,  that  the  assault  by  the  natives  was  not  without 
provocation,  as  friendly  intercourse  was  still  kept  up  between 
the  parties. 

On  the  nth  of  September,  Hudson  weighed  and  sailed 
up  through  the  Narrows.  Having  anchored  in  New  York 
harbour,  he  was  visited  by  the  neighbouring  Indians,  who 
made  great  show  of  love,  giving  presents  of  tobacco  and 
Indian  corn.  He  remained  at  anchor  but  one  day,  and,  on 
the  1 2th  of  September,  took  his  course  up  the  river,  which 
has  since  borne  his  name.  In  his  exploration  to  the  head  of 
navigation,  near  the  present  site  of  Albany,  he  was  engaged 
about  three  weeks,  and  finally  put  to  sea  on  the  4th  of 
October,  making  directly  for  Holland  with  news  of  his 
discovery  of  this  fine  river  and  its  adjacent  country,  which 
he  described  as  offering  every  inducement  for  settlers  or 
traders  that  could  be  desired. 

Besides  the  fertility  of  the  soil,  which  was  satisfactorily 
shown  by  the  great  abundance  of  grain  and  vegetables  found 
in  the  possession  of  the  Indians,  a  still  more  enticing  pros 
pect  was  held  out  to  the  view  of  the  merchant,  in  the  abund 
ance  of  valuable  furs  observed  in  the  country,  which  were 
to  be  had  at  a  very  little  cost.  Hudson  had,  therefore, 
scarcely  made  publicly  known  the  character  of  the  country 
visited  by  him,  when  several  merchants  of  Amsterdam  fitted 
out  trading  vessels  and  despatched  them  to  this  river.  Their 
returns  were  highly  satisfactory,  and  arrangements  were  im- 


MANHATTAN    ISLAND  17 

mediately  made  to  establish  a  settled  agency  here  to  super 
intend  the  collection  of  the  furs  and  the  trade  with  the 
Indians  while  the  ships  should  be  on  their  long  journey 
between  the  two  hemispheres.  The  agents  thus  employed 
pitched  their  cabins  on  the  south  point  of  Manhattan  Island, 
the  head  man  being  Hendrick  Corstiaensen,  who  was  still 
the  chief  of  the  settlement  in  1613,  at  which  period  an 
English  ship,  sailing  along  the  coast  from  Virginia,  entered 
the  harbour  on  a  visit  of  observation.  Finding  Corstiaen 
sen  here,  with  his  company  of  traders,  the  English  captain 
summoned  him  to  acknowledge  the  jurisdiction  of  Virginia 
over  the  country,  or  else  to  depart.  The  former  alternative 
was  chosen  by  the  trader,  and  he  agreed  to  pay  a  small 
tribute  to  the  Governor  of  Virginia  in  token  of  his  right 
of  dominion.  The  Dutch  were  thereupon  left  to  prosecute 
their  trade  without  further  molestation. 

The  Government  of  Holland  did  not,  however,  recognize 
the  claims  of  England  to  jurisdiction  over  the  whole  Ameri 
can  coast,  and  took  measures  to  encourage  the  discovery  and 
appropriation  of  additional  territory  by  a  decree  giving  to 
any  discoverers  of  new  countries  the  exclusive  privilege  of 
trading  thither  for  four  successive  voyages  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  other  persons.  This  enactment  induced  several  mer 
chants  to  fit  out  five  small  ships  for  coasting  along  the 
American  shores  in  this  vicinity.  One  of  these  vessels,  com 
manded  by  Captain  Block,  soon  after  its  arrival  on  the 
coast  was  accidentally  destroyed  by  fire.  Block  immediately 
began  the  construction  of  another,  of  thirty-eight  feet  keel, 
forty-four  and  a  half  feet  on  deck,  and  eleven  and  a  half 
foot  beam,  which  was  the  first  vessel  launched  in  the  waters 
of  New  York.  She  was  called  the  Unrest  or  Restless,  and 
plowed  her  keel  through  the  waters  of  Hell  Gate  and  the 
Sound,  the  pioneer  of  all  other  vessels,  except  the  bark  canoes 
of  the  aboriginal  inhabitants. 


18  MANHATTAN   ISLAND 

The  several  ships  despatched  on  this  exploring  expedition 
having  returned  to  Holland,  from  their  journals  and  sur 
veys  a  map  of  a  large  extent  of  country  was  made,  over 
which  the  Dutch  claimed  jurisdiction,  and  to  which  they 
gave  the  name  of  New  Netherland.  The  owners  of  the^e 
vessels,  as  the  reward  of  their  enterprise,  were  granted  tl  2 
promised  monopoly  of  trade  thither  for  four  voyages  to  be 
completed  within  three  years,  commencing  on  the  first  of 
January,  1615. 

These  merchants  seem  to  have  been  composed  in  part  of 
those  who  had  established  the  first  trading-post  here,  but 
having  increased  their  numbers  and  capital,  and  enlarged 
their  former  designs  of  trade,  formed  themselves  into  a  com 
pany  under  the  name  of  the  "  United  New  Netherland 
Company."  Corstiaensen  was  continued  the  principal  agent 
here,  and  they  likewise  established  a  post  at  the  head  of  the 
river  on  an  island  opposite  the  present  site  of  Albany.  Forts 
of  a  rude  description  (being  merely  inclosures  of  high  pali 
sades)  were  erected  at  both  places. 

The  privileges  granted  to  the  "  United  New  Netherland 
Company  "  being,  however,  limited  in  respect  to  time,  their 
establishment  on  this  island  can  hardly  be  considered  as  a 
permanent  settlement;  the  cabins  of  the  settlers  were  nearly 
of  equal  rudeness  with  those  of  their  Indian  neighbours;  and 
but  few  of  the  luxuries  of  civilization  found  their  way  into 
their  habitations.  The  great  object  of  the  settlement  was, 
however,  successfully  carried  on,  and  stores  of  furs  were  in 
readiness  to  freight  the  ships  on  their  periodical  visits  from 
the  Fatherland.  No  interruption  of  the  friendly  intercourse 
carried  on  with  the  Indians  took  place,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
the  whites  were  abundantly  supplied  by  the  natives  with  food 
and  most  other  necessities  of  life,  without  personal  labour 
and  at  trifling  cost. 

The  Indian  tribes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  this  trading- 


MANHATTAN   ISLAND  19 

post  were  the  Manhattans,  occupying  this  island;  the  Pacha- 
mies,  the  Tankiteks  and  the  Wickqueskeeks,  occupying  the 
country  on  the  east  sides  of  the  Hudson  River,  south  of  the 
Highlands;  the  Hackingsacks  and  the  Raritans,  on  the  west 
si^e  of  the  river  and  the  Jersey  shore;  the  Canarsees,  the 
R^ckways,  the  Merrikokes,  the  Marsapeagues,  the  Mattine- 
cocks,  the  Nissaquages,  the  Corchaugs,  the  Secataugs  and  the 
Shinecocks,  on  Long  Island. 

The  trade  of  this  colony  of  settlers  was  sufficiently  prof 
itable  to  render  its  permanency  desirable  to  the  United  New 
Netherland  Company,  as  it  is  found  that  at  the  termination 
of  their  grant,  in  the  year  1618,  they  endeavoured  to  pro 
cure  from  the  Government  in  Holland  an  extension  of  their 
te"rm,  but  did  not  succeed  in  obtaining  more  than  a  special 
licence,  expiring  yearly,  which  they  held  for  two  or  three 
subsequent  years. 

In  the  meantime,  a  more  extensive  association  had  been 
formed  among  the  merchants  and  capitalists  of  Holland, 
which  in  the  year  1621,  having  matured  its  plans  and 
projects,  received  a  charter  under  the  title  of  the  "  West 
India  Company."  Their  charter  gave  them  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  trade  on  the  whole  American  coast,  both  of  the 
northern  and  southern  continents,  so  far  as  the  jurisdiction 
of  Holland  extended.  This  great  company  was  invested 
with  most  of  the  functions  of  a  distinct  and  separate  govern 
ment.  They  were  allowed  to  appoint  governors  and  other 
officers;  to  settle  the  forms  of  administering  justice;  to 
make  Indian  treaties,  and  to  enact  laws. 

Having  completed  their  arrangements  for  the  organiza 
tion  of  their  government  in  New  Netherland,  the  West 
India  Company  despatched  their  pioneer  vessel  hither  in  the 
year  1623.  This  was  the  ship  New  Nftherland ',  a  staunch 
vessel,  which  continued  her  voyages  to  this  port,  as  a  regular 
packet  for  more  than  thirty  years  subsequently.  On  board 


20  MANHATTAN    ISLAND 

the  New  Netherland  were  thirty  families  to  begin  the  colony 
— this  colony  being  designed  for  a  settlement  at  the  head 
of  the  river,  the  vessel  landed  her  passengers  and  freight 
near  the  present  site  of  Albany,  where  a  settlement  was 
established.  The  return  cargo  of  the  New  Netherland  was 
five  hundred  otter  skins,  one  thousand  five  hundred  beavers, 
and  other  freight,  valued  at  about  twelve  thousand  dollars. 

It  having  been  determined  that  the  headquarters  of  the 
company's  establishment  in  New  Netherland  should  be  fixed 
on  Manhattan  Island,  preparations  for  a  more  extensive 
colony  to  be  planted  here  were  made,  and,  in  1625,  two  ships 
cleared  from  Holland  for  this  place.  On  board  these  vessels 
were  shipped  one  hundred  and  three  head  of  cattle,  together 
with  stallions,  mares,  hogs  and  sheep  in  a  proportionate 
number.  Accompanying  these  were  a  considerable  number 
of  settlers,  with  their  families,  supplied  with  agricultural 
implements  and  seed  for  planting;  household  furniture,  and 
the  other  necessaries  for  establishing  the  colony.  Other 
ships  followed  with  similar  freight,  and  the  number  of 
emigrants  amounted  to  about  two  hundred  souls. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  ships  in  the  harbour,  the  cattle  were 
landed,  in  the  first  instance  on  the  island  now  called  Gov 
ernor's  Island,  where  they  were  left  on  pasturage  until  con 
venient  arrangements  could  be  made  on  the  mainland  to 
prevent  their  straying  in  the  woods.  The  want  of  water, 
however,  compelled  their  speedy  transfer  to  Manhattan 
Island,  where,  being  put  on  the  fresh  grass,  they  generally 
throve  well,  although  about  twenty  died  in  the  course  of  the 
season,  from  eating  some  poisonous  vegetable. 

The  settlers  commenced  their  town  by  staking  out  a  fort 
on  the  south  point  of  the  island,  under  the  direction  of  one 
Kryn  Frederick,  an  engineer  sent  along  with  them  for  that 
purpose;  and  a  horse-mill  having  been  erected,  the  second 
story  of  that  building  was  so  constructed  as  to  afford  accom- 


MANHATTAN    ISLAND  21 

modation  for  the  congregation  for  religious  purposes.  The 
habitations  of  the  settlers  were  of  the  simplest  construction, 
little  better,  indeed,  than  those  of  their  predecessors.  A 
director-general  had  been  sent  to  superintend  the  interests 
of  the  company,  in  the  person  of  Peter  Minuit,  who,  in  the 
year  1626,  purchased  Manhattan  Island  from  the  Indian 
proprietors  for  the  sum  of  sixty  guilders,  or  twenty  four 
dollars,  by  which  the  title  to  the  whole  island,  containing 
about  twenty-two  thousand  acres,  became  vested  in  the 
West  India  Company. 

The  success  of  the  company  proved  itself,  for  a  short 
period,  by  the  rise  in  the  value  in  their  stock,  which  soon 
stood  at  a  high  premium  in  Holland.  Various  interests, 
however,  were  at  work  in  the  company  to  turn  its  advan 
tages  to  individual  account,  and,  in  1628,  an  act  was  passed 
under  the  title  of  "  Freedoms  and  Exemptions  granted  to 
all  such  as  shall  plant  Colonies  in  New  Netherlands." 
This  edict  gave  to  such  persons  as  should  send  over  a  colony 
of  fifty  souls  above  fifteen  years  old,  the  title  of  "  pa- 
troons,"  and  the  privilege  of  selecting  any  land  (except  on 
the  island  of  Manhattan),  for  a  distance  of  eight  miles  on 
each  side  of  any  river,  and  so  far  inland  as  should  be  thought 
convenient,  the  company  stipulating,  however,  that  all  the 
products  of  the  plantation  thus  established  should  be  first 
brought  to  the  Manhattans,  before  being  sent  elsewhere  for 
trade.  They  also  reserved  to  themselves  the  sole  trade  with 
the  Indians  for  peltries  in  all  places  where  they  had  an 
agency  established. 

With  respect  to  such  private  persons  as  should  emigrate  at 
their  own  expense,  they  were  allowed  as  much  land  as  they 
could  properly  improve,  upon  satisfying  the  Indians  therefor. 

These  privileges  gave  an  impetus  to  emigration,  and  as 
sisted,  in  a  great  degree,  in  permanently  establishing  the 
settlement  of  the  country. 


THE  VALLEY   OF   WATERFALLS 
GEORGE   N.   CURZON 

SINCE  1851,  when  the  first  stranger  entered  the  Yo- 
semite,  it  has  been  visited  by  some  forty-three  thousand 
persons.  At  first,  the  facilities  of  access  and  accommoda 
tion  being  very  scant,  the  influx  was  so  slow  that  at  the 
end  of  ten  years  it  had  only  reached  six  hundred  and  fifty- 
three  for  the  entire  period.  Then  it  began  to  advance  by 
leaps  and  bounds,  till  the  yearly  average  has  now  risen  above 
two  thousand  five  hundred,  a  total  which  with  the  improve 
ments  in  railroads  and  hotels  that  are  still  in  course  of  erec 
tion  will  be  largely  augmented  in  the  near  future. 

When  I  spoke  of  the  discovery  of  the  Yosemite  Valley, 
I  must  be  understood  of  course  to  refer  to  the  first  invasion 
of  its  borders  by  the  foot  of  the  white  man.  Long  be 
fore,  perhaps  for  centuries,  it  had  formed  a  secure  retreat 
for  Indian  tribes,  who  in  the  pathless  glens  and  gorges  of 
the  Sierras  conducted  an  internecine  tribal  warfare,  or  pur 
sued  an  animal  quarry  scarcely  wilder  than  themselves.  It 
was  by  collision  with  these  very  Indians  that  the  beauti 
ful  valley  accidentally  became  known  to  the  pioneers  of 
what  we  call  Western  civilization,  who  at  the  beginning 
of  the  second  half  of  the  last  century  poured  into  California 
in  the  mad  thirst  for  gold,  sowing  in  rapacity  and  lust 
and  crime  the  seeds  from  which  civilization  and  religion, 
too  often  begotten  in  a  like  stormy  travail,  were  at  a 
later  date  to  spring. 

At  first  the  Indians  did  not  recognize  as  enemies  the 
scattered  groups  of  gold-diggers  who  suddenly  alighted  upon 

22 


C>|>yrl|rht,  \<nt\,  by  Drlrr.l 


BL    CAIMTAN,    YOSEMITE   VALLKY 


THE   VALLEY   OF   WATERFALLS  23 

their  borders.  But  when  the  groups  became  a  swarm,  over 
spreading  the  country  with  lawless  violence  and  sweeping 
all  before  them,  jealousy  and  recrimination  set  in.  These 
strained  relations  presently  culminated  in  an  attack  by  the 
Indians  upon  a  trading-camp  at  Fresno,  and  the  massacre 
of  all  the  whites  there  assembled.  This  was  in  December, 
1850.  A  company  of  volunteers  was  immediately  raised 
among  the  traders  for  purposes  of  self-protection,  retalia 
tion,  and  revenge;  but  the  evil  grew  so  rapidly  that  more 
authoritative  measures  became  necessary.  Accordingly,  in 
January,  1851,  by  order  of  the  Governor  of  the  State,  a 
company  of  two  hundred  able-bodied  militia  was  enrolled, 
Mr.  J.  D.  Savage,  the  owner  of  the  trading-station  orig 
inally  destroyed,  being  elected  first  commander.  Recog 
nizing,  however,  the  justice  of  the  irritation  naturally  felt 
by  the  Indians  at  the  invasion  of  their  patrimony,  and 
anxious  at  all  hazards  to  preserve  peace,  the  Government 
very  wisely  despatched  emissaries  among  the  surrounding 
tribes,  with  power  to  negotiate  and  distribute  gifts;  while 
they  set  apart  a  reserve  territory  for  such  Indians  as  should 
be  found  amenable  to  these  pacifying  influences.  Still  there 
were  some  who  held  out,  the  principal  of  them  being  a  tribe 
who  were  vaguely  reported  as  dwelling  in  a  deep,  rocky 
valley  to  the  northeast.  Communication  was  opened  with 
them,  and  their  chief  was  summoned  and  came  to  a 
11  palaver."  But  the  requisite  assurances  not  being  obtain 
able,  the  order  to  advance  was  at  length  given,  and  the 
expedition  set  out  in  quest  of  the  mysterious  retreat.  It 
was  on  May  6th,  1851,  that  from  the  mountains  on  the 
south  there  burst  upon  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  soldiers 
of  the  Mariposa  Battalion  the  first  sight  of  the  enchanted 
valley.  They  gave  to  it  the  name  Yo-Semite,  from  that  of 
the  tribe,  the  Yo-Semites,  or  Grizzly  Bears,  by  whom  it  was 
inhabited,  abandoning  the  beautiful  name  of  Ah-wah-nee, 


24  THE   VALLEY   OF   WATERFALLS 

or  the  Broad  Canon,  by  which  it  had  been  known  in  the 
Indian  vocabulary.  The  difficulty  with  the  Indians  was 
soon  at  an  end,  and  the  war,  before  it  had  lasted  six 
months,  was  concluded  in  July,  1851.  It  was  a  curious 
sequel  to  the  pacific  termination  of  the  struggle  that  the 
leaders  of  both  sides,  I.  D.  Savage,  and  the  Indian  chief, 
Ten-ie-ya,  each  met  at  a  later  date  with  a  violent  death, 
the  one  at  the  hand  of  a  fellow-white,  the  other  in  a  foray 
with  a  neighbouring  tribe. 

The  discovery  of  the  valley  was  not  followed  by  an  im 
mediate  accession  of  visitors.  It  was  not  till  four  years 
later  that  a  small  body  of  enterprising  men,  who  had  heard 
the  tales  circulated  by  the  disbanded  militiamen,  resolved  to 
make  another  expedition  to  the  deserted  valley.  Meanwhile, 
there  having  been  no  communication  in  the  interim,  the 
trails  through  the  forest  had  been  obliterated  and  the  mem 
ory  of  the  militiamen  had  grown  dim.  Nor  was  it  till 
some  Indians  had  been  procured  as  guides  from  the  Reserve 
that  this  pioneer  party  of  tourists  was  enabled  to  make  its 
way  to  the  coveted  destination.  To  any  one  acquainted 
with  the  natural  features  of  this  Californian  scenery — an 
immense  sweep  of  lofty  mountains  intersected  by  ravines 
and  clothed  with  a  dense  forest-growth — the  long  seclusion 
of  the  valley,  and  the  difficulty  in  re-discovering  it  even 
when  already  discovered,  will  not  appear  a  matter  of 
surprise. 

From  this  expedition,  which  was  thoroughly  successful, 
and  by  whose  members  many  of  the  names  were  given  by 
which  the  mountains  and  waterfalls  are  now  known,  may 
be  dated  the  opening  of  the  Yosemite  Valley  to  travellers 
and  tourists.  The  prodigious  increase  in  communication 
since  that  date  has  already  been  noted. 

There  yet  remained  one  step  before  this  splendid  acqui 
sition  could  be  turned  to  real  account,  with  a  double  regard 


THE   VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS  25 

for  its  own  priceless  security  and  for  the  free  but  orderly 
enjoyment  of  the  public.  The  Government  of  the  United 
States,  which  has  never  been  behindhand  in  acts  of  similar 
liberal  and  far-seeing  policy  (for  there  may  be  statesman 
ship  even  in  landscape-gardening),  took  up  the  question  in 
1864.  In  the  session  of  that  year  Mr.  T.  S.  Conness, 
Senator  for  California,  very  appropriately  introduced  a  bill 
for  the  public  dedication  of  the  Yosemite  Valley,  which  was 
passed  without  demur  by  both  Chambers  of  Congress.  In 
this  Bill,  wrhich  was  approved  on  June  3Oth,  1864,  it  was 
declared :  "  Be  it  enacted  by  the  Senate  and  House  of 
Representatives  of  the  United  States  of  America,  in  Congress 
assembled,  that  there  shall  be  and  is  hereby  granted  to  the 
State  of  California  the  cleft  or  gorge  in  the  granite  peak  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  situated  in  the  County  of 
Mariposa  in  the  State  aforesaid,  and  the  headwaters  of  the 
Merced  River,  and  known  as  the  Yosemite  Valley,  with  its 
branches  or  spurs  in  estimated  length  fifteen  miles,  and  in 
average  width  one  mile  back  from  the  main  edge  of  the 
precipice  on  each  side  of  the  valley;  with  the  stipulation 
nevertheless  that  the  said  State  shall  accept  this  grant  upon 
the  express  condition  that  the  premises  shall  be  held  for 
public  use,  resort,  and  recreation;  and  shall  be  inalienable 
for  all  time." 

Then  followed  a  similar  provision  for  the  neighbouring 
Mariposa  Big  Tree  Grove. 

The  valley  and  its  surroundings  having  thus  solemnly 
been  handed  over  to  the  State  of  California,  the  Governor 
of  that  State  forthwith  appointed  a  Board  of  Commissioners 
for  the  due  administration  of  the  trust,  an  act  which  in 
1866  received  the  confirmation  of  the  Senate  and  Assembly 
of  the  same  State.  The  whole  machinery  was  thus  set  in 
working  order;  and  by  the  Board  so  nominated  the  valley 
is  guarded  and  governed  to  this  day. 


26  THE   VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS 

Any  Englishman  who  does  not  happen  to  be  among  the 
fortunate  twelve  hundred  who  have  so  far  visited  the  spot, 
may  at  this  stage  very  legitimately  enquire,  "  What  is  the 
Yosemite  Valley,  and  what  are  its  peculiar  features?  " 
Without  any  desire  to  usurp  the  functions,  and  still  less  to 
imitate  the  style,  of  the  numerous  available  guide-books,  I 
would  briefly  answer  as  follows: 

One  hundred  and  fifty  miles  nearly  due  east  of  San  Fran 
cisco,  where  the  middle  ranges  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  rise  from 
the  San  Joaquin  valley  in  grand  wooded  outlines,  sweep  upon 
sweep,  to  a  height  of  thirteen  thousand  feet  above  the  sea, 
there  is  hewn  from  east  to  west  a  profound  ravine  between 
two  confronting  barriers  of  precipitous  rock.  Over  a  space 
varying  from  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  two  miles  in  width, 
and  along  a  line  some  six  miles  in  extent,  these  grim  natural 
fortifications  look  out  at  each  other  and  down  upon  a  peaceful 
valley  slumbering  in  the  deep  trench,  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
in  sheer  depth,  below.  Many  English  persons  are  familiar 
with  the  noble  spectacle  presented  by  the  northern  front  of 
the  Rock  of  Gibraltar,  on  the  side  where  a  perpendicular 
face  of  rock,  twelve  hundred  feet  high,  towers  gloriously 
above  the  flat  space  known  as  the  Neutral  Ground.  Con 
ceive  this  cliff  trebled  in  height,  Pelion  on  Ossa  and  Olympus 
on  both,  extended  over  a  line  twice  the  length  of  the  Long 
Walk  in  Windsor  Park,  and  confronted  at  the  varying 
distances  I  have  named  by  another  wall  of  like  character 
and  similar  dimensions:  conceive  these  parallel  rocky  walls, 
while  retaining  their  uniform  abruptness  and  height,  to  be 
shaped  into  stormy  outlines  of  towers  and  pinnacles  and 
domes:  conceive  further  the  intervening  space  to  be  sown 
with  great  trees  and  flowering  shrubs,  a  paltry  plantation 
when  viewed  from  above,  but  a  mighty  forest-growth  below, 
and  to  be  traversed  by  the  coils  of  a  winding  river:  con 
ceive,  I  say,  this  startling  combination  of  features,  and  you 


THE    VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS  27 

will  still  have  but  a  dim  and  inadequate  likeness  of  the 
Yosemite  Valley. 

But  what  is  perhaps  the  chief  characteristic  remains  to  be 
told.  I  have  called  it  the  Valley  of  Waterfalls;  and  herein 
consists  its  distinction  from  all  other  remarkable  valleys, 
so  far  as  I  know,  in  the  world. 

Straight  over  these  mountain  walls,  not  down  the  bed  of 
converging  ravines,  but  from  upland  valleys  unseen  above 
and  beyond,  come  toppling  the  heaven-sent  waters  that  sup 
ply  the  shining  River  of  Mercy  (Rio  de  la  Merced),  mur 
muring  so  musically  below.  Almost  may  we  say: 

"  Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory  do  they  come 
From  God  who  is  their  home." 

For,  as  with  a  rush  and  a  leap  they  spring  from  the  craggy 
ledges,  their  forms  are  intertwined  with  rainbows  and  au- 
reoled  with  light.  Thus  they  descend,  soft  vaporous  shapes, 
spray-clad,  that  glimmer  along  the  aerial  stairway  like  spirits 
passing  up  and  down  a  Jacob's  ladder  from  heaven  to  earth, 
until  the  phantasy  is  shivered  in  the  tumult  and  thunder 
of  the  plunge  upon  the  echoing  platform  or  in  the  deep, 
hollow  pools  at  the  base.  From  a  distance  of  miles  these 
waterfalls  may  be  seen  hung  like  white  streamers  against 
the  mountain-walls.  Even  there  a  faint  whisper  sings  in 
the  air,  deepening  as  we  advance  to  a  hum  and  roar,  till 
about  their  feet  the  atmosphere  is  filled  and  choked  with 
the  stunning  shocks  of  sound. 

They  vary  considerably  in  height,  being  sometimes  inter 
cepted  in  their  descent  or  broken  up  into  more  than  one  cas 
cade.  Fifteen  hundred  feet  is  the  height  of  the  highest  or 
upper  Yosemite  fall;  but  this  is  the  uppermost  of  a  trio  of 
cascades,  one  above  the  other,  the  united  fall  of  which 


28  THE   VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS 

amounts  to  two  thousand  six  hundred  feet,  and  when  seen 
from  a  distance  can  be  mistaken  for  a  single  uninterrupted 
fall.  Inevitably,  too,  but  unfortunately,  they  vary  in  vol 
ume  according  to  the  season  of  the  year,  the  depth  of  rain 
fall,  and  the  duration  of  the  winter  snows.  In  the  early 
spring,  when  the  feeders  are  full,  each  brook  becomes  a 
torrent  and  each  fall  a  cataract.  Then  the  Yosemite  is  pre 
eminently  the  Valley  of  Waterfalls;  for  not  a  mile  of  its 
rocky  palisades  can  be  passed  but  there  comes  foaming  from 
the  sky  a  precipitous  shoot  of  what  looks  like  molten  snow. 
But  in  the  late  summer  the  bulk  is  often  sadly  diminished, 
the  brooks  dwindle  into  rills,  and  the  watery  fleeces  become 
ribands  and  wisps  and  threads,  fluttering  feebly  and  for 
lornly  down  the  stained  tracks  of  their  lost  spring-glory. 

Of  these  falls  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  at  all  times  and 
seasons  is  that  to  which  the  pioneer  tourists  of  1855  gave  the 
name  of  the  Bridal  Veil.  It  falls  sheer  for  nine  hundred 
feet,  the  rocky  rim  from  which  it  leaps  being  outlined  as 
sharply  as  a  razor's  edge  against  the  sky.  The  name  is  not 
ill-applied,  for  as  the  breeze  catches  the  descending  jets, 
when  not  in  full  volume,  it  puffs  them  outward  from  the 
rock  and  wafts  them  in  gauzy  festoons  from  side  to  side. 
Hither  and  thither  float  the  misty  folds,  like  a  diaphanous 
veil  of  tulle.  Lower  down  the  water,  pouring  in  miniature 
cataracts  from  the  ledges,  alone  shows  what  is  the  quan 
tity  and  what  the  texture  of  the  material.  The  Indian 
name  for  this  fall  was  Pohono,  or  the  Spirit  of  the  Evil 
Wind.  They  connected  with  it  some  mysterious  and  bale 
ful  influence,  hearing  the  mutter  of  spirit-voices  in  the 
sound,  and  scenting  the  cold  breath  of  a  destroying  angel 
in  the  breeze  of  the  enchanted  fall.  To  pass  by  it  was  of 
ill-omen,  to  sleep  near  it  was  perilous,  to  point  the  ringer 
of  scorn  at  it  was  death.  An  Indian  wroman,  who  once  fell 
from  the  slippery  ledge  at  the  top  and  was  dashed  to  pieces, 


THE   VALLEY   OF    WATERFALLS  29 

was  believed  to  have  been  swept  away  by  the  Evil  One. 
Unlike  the  artistic  though  rationalizing  temper  of  the  an 
cient  Greeks,  who  recognized  in  the  legendary  carrying  off 
of  Orithyia  by  Boreas,  the  North  Wind,  the  metaphor  of  a 
tempestuous  love,  the  Indian  mind,  plunged  in  sad  super 
stition,  could  see  nothing  in  a  similar  fatality  but  the  re 
vengeful  finger  of  doom.  This  is  not  the  only  case  in  which 
we  cannot  help  regretting  the  substitution  of  a  modern  for 
the  more  significant  or  traditional  Indian  name.  No  great 
propriety  and  still  less  originality  was  shown  in  the  selec 
tion  of  such  titles  as  the  Riband,  the  Vernal,  and  the  Ne 
vada.  How  much  prettier,  in  meaning  if  not  in  sound,  were 
Lung-oo-too-koo-yah,  the  Graceful  and  Slender  One;  Pi- 
wy-ack,  the  Shower  of  Diamonds;  Yo-wi-ye,  the  Twisting 
One,  and  Tu-lu-la-wiack,  the  Rush  of  Waters.  Gladly, 
too,  would  we  see  Mirror  Lake  reconverted  into  Ke-ko-too- 
yen,  the  Sleeping  Water. 

The  Indian  imagination  seems  to  have  been  more  poet 
ically  excited  by  waterfalls  than  by  mountains;  for  the 
names  which  they  gave  to  the  latter  were  in  some  cases 
fantastic  and  less  worthy  of  appropriation.  The  two  extraor 
dinary  rocks  on  the  southern  side  of  the  valley,  which  from 
their  shape  and  juxtaposition  are  aptly  called  the  Cathedral 
Spires, — being  indeed  as  like  the  west  front  of  a  Gothic 
minster  as  the  architecture  of  Nature  could  be  expected  to 
model  them — -were  known  to  the  Indians  as  Poo-see-na- 
Chuck-ka,  the  Acorn  Baskets,  from  the  receptacle  of  that 
name,  shaped  like  an  inverted  cone,  which  is  carried  on 
their  backs  by  the  Indian  women.  The  three  pointed  rocks 
on  the  other  side  of  the  valley,  now  called  the  Three 
Brothers,  were  Pom-pom-pa-sa,  or  the  Jumping  Frogs.  The 
Sentinel  Dome  was  Ho-ko-owa,  or  the  Lizard,  from  a  dark, 
lizard-shaped  stain  in  the  rock.  The  North  Dome, — that 
curious  smooth  cupola  of  granite  that  overhangs  the  entrance 


30  THE   VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS 

to  the  northermost  of  the  two  eastern  forks — was  To-coy-a, 
from  the  covering  over  the  face  of  a  papoose  carried  in  its 
basket-cradle  on  its  mother's  back.  More  fitly  the  Half- 
Dome, — most  prominent  of  all  the  giants  of  the  valley, 
being,  as  its  name  implies,  a  great  bald  hump  of  rock  (four 
thousand  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  valley-floor  and  nine 
thousand  above  the  sea)  smooth  and  rounded  on  one  side, 
but  suddenly  cleft  in  twain  through  the  middle,  as  though 
by  the  slash  of  some  Titan's  axe — was  named  by  the  In 
dians  Tis-sa-ack,  the  Goddess  of  the  Valley.  Finally  El 
Capitan  (a  name  given  by  the  Mission  Indians  who  had 
borrowed  it  from  the  Spanish  padres),  that  magnificent 
bluff,  so  familiar  from  a  hundred  photographs  and  sketches, 
which  stands  like  a  sturdy  warder  at  the  western  threshold 
of  the  valley,  was  known  as  Tu-tock-ah-nu-lah,  the  Great 
Guardian  Deity.  There  is  another  respect,  besides  the 
waterfalls,  in  which  late  summer  and  autumn  in  the  Yo- 
semite  are  the  sufferers  to  the  gain  of  the  spring.  This  is 
in  the  matter  of  vegetation.  At  all  times  a  rich  forest-growth 
adorns  the  valley;  and  it  is  only  by  comparison  with  the 
celebrated  Big  Trees  (Sequoia  gigantia)  that  grow  in  the 
neighbourhood  some  thirty  miles  away,  and  are  usually 
visited  in  the  course  of  the  same  expedition,  that  these  noble 
Yosemite  stems,  one  hundred  and  seventy  to  two  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  high,  straight  as  an  obelisk  and  tall  as  a 
tower,  are  not  considered  giants  in  the  land. 

The  roadway  winds  in  and  out  of  the  solemn  sylvan 
aisles,  the  light  scarcely  breaking  through  the  clustered 
leafy  capitals  and  shedding  itself  in  dust  of  gold  upon  the 
big  cones  and  needles  that  litter  the  forest-floor.  Here  are 
yellow  pines  and  sugar  pines,  the  red  or  incense  cedar,  the 
Douglas  spruce,  and  three  varieties  of  silver  fir.  Here,  too, 
are  the  more  familiar  figures  of  the  common  oak  and  the 
evergreen  oak,  the  quaking  aspen  and  the  willow,  alders, 


THE    VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS  31 

poplars,  maples,  and  laurel.  The  majority  of  these  con 
tinue  their  bounty  right  through  the  summer;  but  it  is  in 
the  undergrowth  and  shrubs  and  flowers  that  the  visitor 
in  the  spring  finds  such  an  additional  delight.  Then  the 
open  spaces  are  gay  with  the  festal  bloom  of  the  manzanita, 
with  azaleas,  yellow  and  white  and  pink,  with  the  soft 
plumes  of  the  California  lilac,  with  dogwood  and  prim 
roses,  with  the  syringa,  the  butterfly  tulip,  and  the  white 
lily.  The  trails  are  bright  with  their  colours  and  sweet 
with  their  fragrance,  and  all  Nature  smiles. 

Being  even  at  its  base  as  much  as  four  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  the  Yosemite  Valley  enjoys  a  very  equable 
temperature,  the  thermometer  seldom  pointing  to  more 
than  86°  in  summer.  The  orientation  of  the  cutting  is 
moreover  the  source  of  a  twofold  charm.  Running,  as  the 
valley  does,  almost  due  east  and  west,  the  sea-breezes  that 
pour  in  at  the  Golden  Gate  come  swiftly  over  the  inter 
vening  plains  and  blow  an  incessant  draught  from  end  to 
end  of  the  gorge.  To  the  same  accident  of  site  we  owe  the 
splendours  of  sunrise  and  sunset.  Did  the  valley  face  north 
and  south,  one  face  of  it  would  be  perpetually  in  shadow. 
As  it  is,  when  the  morning  sun  has  topped  the  eastern 
heights,  its  rays  run  swiftly  from  peak  to  peak  right  down 
the  full  length  of  the  ravine,  which  in  a  few  moments  is 
flooded  with  the  golden  glory.  Similarly  as  the  declining 
orb  sinks  opposite  the  western  doorway,  both  faces  of  rock, 
from  El  Capitan  to  the  Half-Dome,  attend  the  dying  couch 
and  are  gilded  with  the  vanishing  beam. 

If  it  be  asked  in  what  special  features,  other  than  the 
broad  structural  outlines  which  have  already  been  described, 
the  wonder  of  the  Yosemite  consists,  I  would  reply,  in  the 
solemn  uniformity  of  colouring,  in  the  nakedness  of  the  rocky 
fronts,  and  in  the  absolutely  vertical  cleavage  from  cap  to 
base.  There  is  none  of  that  gorgeous  variety  of  colouring 


32  THE   VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS 

that  results  from  different  rock-strata,  or,  as  in  the  famous 
canon  of  the  Yellowstone,  from  the  chemical  action  of  min 
eral  deposits  and  boiling  springs.  The  rock  is  everywhere 
an  ashen  grey  granite,  which  in  places  where  the  surface 
layer  has  scaled  off  becomes  a  pale,  or,  under  the  sunlight,  a 
glittering  white.  Only  here  and  there,  where  through  the 
long  years  streams,  too  thin  to  make  a  waterfall,  have 
trickled  down  the  bare  face,  are  black  splashes  and  streaks 
like  the  dishevelled  tresses  of  a  woman's  hair.  But  the  very 
absence  of  variety,  the  gleaming  monochrome  of  stone,  has 
an  indefinable  grandeur  of  its  own,  and  strikes  the  spec 
tator  from  below  with  a  peculiar  awe.  The  two  other  fea 
tures  I  have  mentioned  are  closely  connected ;  for  it  is  the 
vertically  of  the  cliffs  that  is  responsible  for  the  almost 
total  absence  of  vegetation  from  their  faces.  Now  and  then 
a  solitary  pine  has  secured  a  precarious  foothold  upon  some 
tiny  ledge ;  but  for  the  most  part  not  even  Nature  is  allowed 
to  plant  an  excrescence.  Where  the  sheer  walls  are  inter 
spersed  with  slopes,  these  lend  whatever  of  contrast  and 
colour  may  be  needed,  being  sufficiently  clad  with  under 
growth  and  shrubs. 

If  a  single  point  be  named  from  which  a  finer  view  than 
elsewhere  can  be  obtained,  to  the  rocky  height  known  as 
Glacier  Point  should  be  conceded  the  honour.  It  is  three 
thousand  and  two  hundred  and  fifty-seven  feet  in  sheer 
height  above  the  valley,  which  here  expands  to  its  greatest 
width.  From  east  to  west  its  length  is  laid  bare,  even  to  the 
end  of  the  forks  into  which  it  bifurcates  at  the  eastern 
extremity,  and  the  most  important  waterfalls  are  all  in 
view.  A  big  stone  pitched  from  the  summit  will  not  strike 
the  rock  till  sixteen  seconds  have  been  counted,  and  then  at 
a  considerable  distance  from  the  bottom.  A  tale  is  told  in 
one  of  the  guide-books  of  an  antique  hen  which,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  a  party  of  visitors,  was  tossed  over  the  pre- 


THE   VALLEY   OF   WATERFALLS  33 

cipitous  bluff.  Down  and  ever  down  sank  the  hapless  fowl, 
till  it  became  a  tiny  ball  of  feathers,  then  a  speck,  and 
finally  vanished  altogether  in  the  abyss.  The  spectators, 
somewhat  chagrined  at  this  gratuitous  sacrifice  of  animal 
life,  ventured  upon  a  remonstrance,  but  were  met  with  the 
cheerful  reply:  "  Don't  be  alarmed  about  that  chicken, 
ladies!  She's  used  to  it.  She  goes  over  that  cliff  every  day 
during  the  season."  The  story  goes  on  to  relate  that  the 
same  party,  descending  the  cliff  in  the  course  of  the  after 
noon,  encountered  the  old  hen,  uninjured,  composedly  as 
cending  the  trail. 

Various  theories  have  been  advanced  to  explain  the  for 
mation  of  this  remarkable  valley.  There  is  one  school  of 
geologists,  headed  by  Professor  Whitney  (the  author  of  the 
best  hand-book  to  the  Yosemite),  who  believe  it  to  have 
arisen,  or  rather  sunk,  from  a  subsidence  in  the  soil  between 
the  rocky  walls.  Others  have  argued  that  it  is  a  fissure 
cleft  by  volcanic  action  in  the  very  core  of  the  granite. 
Were  not  both  these  theories  unsupported  either  by  local  or 
collateral  evidence,  there  is  yet  that  in  the  valley  itself 
which  testifies  irresistibly  to  a  different  origin.  The  mys 
terious  handwriting  of  Nature  is  engraven  upon  the  crags; 
and  we  must  believe  that  the  Yosemite,  like  many  another 
deep  valley  and  grim  gorge,  has  been  fashioned  by  the  gi 
gantic  agencies  of  frost  and  ice.  On  the  northern  wall  may 
be  traced  in  many  places  the  print  of  icy  fingers,  those  un 
mistakable  lateral  striations  that  show  where  the  remorse 
less  touch  has  passed.  The  rounded  surface  of  the  domes, 
the  polished  faces  of  rock,  the  burnished  recumbent  boul 
ders,  the  evidence  of  summits  and  sides  and  base,  all  tell 
the  same  tale.  In  the  northern  fork,  near  the  Mirror  Lake, 
may  be  seen  heaps  of  colossal  debris  which,  detached  from 
the  Half-Dome,  have  slid  down  some  prehistoric  ice-slope 
and  have  been  deposited,  not  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice 


34  THE    VALLEY    OF    WATERFALLS 

from  which  they  fell,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine. 
In  more  than  one  place  are  palpable  relics  of  vast  glacial 
moraines.  There  cannot  be  much  doubt  that  at  some  remote 
period  (we  need  not  attempt  to  estimate  when)  the  entire 
valley  from  roof  to  floor  was  packed  with  a  huge  ice-field, 
over  a  mile  and  a  half  in  depth,  that  easily  overlapped  the 
rim  and  extended  to  the  summits  of  the  adjacent  and  supe 
rior  heights.  Then  when  the  age  of  disintegration  set  in, 
how  mightily  must  the  giant  fingers  have  torn  and  wrenched, 
have  split  and  riven,  have  scraped  and  ground!  What  a 
work  of  cleaving  precipices  and  snapping  projections,  of 
crushing  obstacles  and  pulverizing  fragments!  With  what 
superhuman  strength  was  the  great  ploughshare  driven 
through  the  heart  of  the  everlasting  hills!  We  crawl  like 
ants  in  the  furrow,  happy  if  in  our  day  some  Daniel  arises 
to  interpret  to  us  the  mystic  handwriting  on  the  wall. 


BUNKER   HILL 

DANIEL   WEBSTER 

NO  national  drama  was  ever  developed,  in  a  more  inter 
esting  and  splendid  first  scene.  The  incidents  and 
the  results  of  the  battle  itself  were  most  important,  and 
indeed  most  wonderful.  As  a  mere  battle,  few  surpass  it  in 
whatever  engages  and  interests  the  attention.  It  was  fought, 
on  a  conspicuous  eminence,  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood 
of  a  populous  city ;  and  consequently  in  the  view  of  thou 
sands  of  spectators.  The  attacking  army  moved  over  a 
sheet  of  water  to  the  assault.  The  operations  and  move 
ments  were  of  course  all  visible  and  distinct.  Those  who 
looked  on  from  the  houses  and  heights  of  Boston  had  a 
fuller  view  of  every  important  operation  and  event,  than 
can  ordinarily  be  had  of  any  battle,  or  than  can  possibly 
be  had  of  such  as  are  fought  on  a  more  extended  ground,  or 
by  detachments  of  troops  acting  in  different  places,  and  at 
different  times,  and  in  some  measure  independently  of  each 
other.  When  the  British  columns  were  advancing  to  the 
attack,  the  flames  of  Charlestown  (fired,  as  is  generally 
supposed,  by  a  shell),  began  to  ascend.  The  spectators,  far 
outnumbering  both  armies,  thronged  and  crowded  on  every 
height  and  every  point  which  afforded  a  view  of  the  scene, 
themselves  constituted  a  very  important  part  of  it. 

The  troops  of  the  two  armies  seemed  like  so  many  com 
batants  in  an  amphitheatre.  The  manner  in  which  they 
should  acquit  themselves  was  to  be  judged  of,  not  as  in 
other  cases  of  military  engagements,  by  reports  and  future 
history,  but  by  a  vast  and  anxious  assembly  already  on  the 

35 


36  BUNKER   HILL 

spot,  and  waiting  with  unspeakable  concern  and  emotion 
the  progress  of  the  day. 

In  other  battles  the  recollection  of  wives  and  children, 
has  been  used  as  an  excitement  to  animate  the  warrior's 
breast  and  nerve  his  arm.  Here  was  not  a  mere  recollection, 
but  an  actual  presence  of  them,  and  other  dear  connexions, 
hanging  on  the  skirts  of  the  battle,  anxious  and  agitated, 
feeling  almost  as  if  wounded  themselves  by  every  blow  of 
the  enemy,  and  putting  forth,  as  it  were,  their  own  strength, 
and  all  the  energy  of  their  own  throbbing  bosoms,  into  every 
gallant  effort  of  their  warring  friends. 

But  there  was  a  more  comprehensive  and  vastly  more 
important  view  of  that  day's  contest,  than  has  been  men 
tioned, — a  view,  indeed,  which  ordinary  eyes,  bent  intently 
on  what  was  immediately  before  them,  did  not  embrace,  but 
which  was  perceived  in  its  full  extent  and  expansion  by 
minds  of  a  higher  order.  Those  men  who  were  at  the  head 
of  the  Colonial  councils,  who  had  been  engaged  for  years  in 
the  previous  stages  of  the  quarrel  with  England,  and  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  look  forward  to  the  future,  were 
well  apprised  of  the  magnitude  of  the  events  likely  to  hang 
on  the  business  of  that  day.  They  saw  in  it  not  only  a 
battle,  but  the  beginning  of  a  civil  war,  of  unmeasured 
extent  and  uncertain  issue.  All  America  and  all  England 
were  likely  to  be  deeply  concerned  in  the  consequences. 
The  individuals  themselves,  who  knew  full  well  what 
agency  they  had  had,  in  bringing  affairs  to  this  crisis,  had 
need  of  all  their  courage; — not  that  disregard  of  personal 
safety,  in  which  the  vulgar  suppose  true  courage  to  con 
sist,  but  that  high  and  fixed  moral  sentiment,  that  steady 
and  decided  purpose,  which  enables  men  to  pursue  a  dis 
tant  end,  with  a  full  view  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
before  them,  and  with  a  conviction,  that,  before  they  arrive 
at  the  proposed  end,  should  they  ever  reach  it,  they  must 


PI,  I..K,.,.I, ,,.-.,. 

l',r\KKk    HIF.L    MoNT MKNT 


BUNKER   HILL  37 

pass  through  evil  report  as  well  as  good  report,  and  be 
liable  to  obloquy,  as  well  as  to  defeat. 

Spirits,  that  fear  nothing  else,  fear  disgrace;  and  this 
danger  is  necessarily  encountered  by  those  who  engage  in 
civil  war.  Unsuccessful  resistance  is  not  only  ruin  to  its 
authors,  but  is  esteemed,  and  necessarily  so,  by  the  laws 
of  all  countries,  treasonable.  This  is  the  case,  at  least  till 
resistance  becomes  so  general  and  formidable  as  to  assume 
the  form  of  regular  war.  But  who  can  tell,  when  resist 
ance  commences,  whether  it  will  attain  even  to  that  degree 
of  success?  Some  of  those  persons  who  signed  the  Declara 
tion  of  Independence  in  1776,  described  themselves  as  sign 
ing  it,  "  as  with  halters  about  their  necks."  If  there  were 
grounds  for  this  remark  in  1776,  when  the  cause  had  become 
so  much  more  general,  how  much  greater  was  the  hazard, 
when  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  was  fought?  Otis,  to  whose 
merits  it  is  high  time  that  some  competent  pen  should  do 
full  and  ample  justice,  had  ceased  to  be  active  in  public 
concerns ;  but  others,  who  had  partaken  of  the  public  coun 
cils  with  him, — and  among  them,  he,  who  acted  a  conspic 
uous  part  in  the  business  of  those  times,  and  who  yet  lives, 
to  assert,  with  vigour  unimpaired  by  years,  the  claims  of  the 
patriots  of  this  Commonwealth  to  a  full  participation  and 
an  efficient  agency,  not  only  in  the  very  earliest  scenes  of  the 
Revolution,  but  in  the  events  which  preceded  it,  and  in 
which  it  may  be  said,  more  than  in  any  other  particular 
occurrences,  to  have  had  its  origin, — were  earnestly  watch 
ing  the  immediate  issue  of  the  contest,  but  were  seeing  also, 
at  the  same  time,  its  more  remote  consequences,  and  the 
vastness  and  importance  of  the  scene  which  was  then 
opening. 

These  considerations  constituted,  to  enlarged  and  liberal 
minds,  the  moral  sublimity  of  the  occasion ;  while  to  the 
outward  senses  the  movement  of  armies,  the  roar  of  artillery, 


38  BUNKER    HILL 

the  brilliancy  of  the  reflection  of  a  summer's  sun,  from  the 
burnished  armour  of  the  British  columns,  and  the  flames  of 
a  burning  town,  made  up  a  scene  of  extraordinary  grandeur. 

Whoever  considers  the  nature  and  circumstances  of  this 
battle  will  not  be  at  all  surprised,  if  there  should  appear  to 
have  been  some  degree  of  complaint  and  fault-finding  among 
those  engaged.  It  was  a  battle  almost  won, — but  yet  lost. 
The  place  was  not  finally  defended.  The  pinnacle  of  suc 
cess  had  been  almost  reached,  not  quite.  The  prize  had 
been  seized,  as  it  were,  but  not  holden.  Out  of  the  disap 
pointed  feelings,  natural  to  such  an  occasion,  some  crimina 
tion  and  recrimination  might  be  expected  to  rise.  Even  the 
gallant  Prescott,  a  man  of  noble,  generous  and  magnanimous 
nature,  would  not  willing  surrender  his  redoubt ;  nor  is  it 
strange  that  he  might  think  it  possible  for  others  to  have 
given  him  better  support.  He  found  himself,  in  his  little 
fortress,  and  on  his  leaving  it,  to  pass  through  a  gate-way 
enfiladed  by  the  British  musquetry,  in  a  condition  some 
what  like  that  in  which  Jugurtha  is  described  by  Sallust: 
"  Dum  sustenare  suos,  et  prope  jam  adeptam  victoriam  ret- 
'mere  cupit,  circumventus  ab  equitibus,  dextra,  sinistra,  om 
nibus  occisis,  solus  Inter  tela  hostium  vitabundus  erumplt" 

Properly  and  strictly  speaking,  there  was  no  Commander- 
in-Chief  in  the  battle.  The  troops  from  the  different 
States  were  strangers  to  each  other.  The  battle  itself  was 
unexpected,  and  may  be  said  to  have  been  accidental.  No 
weight  should  be  given  to  the  opinions,  engendered  in  such 
a  state  of  feelings  against  any  man's  conduct;  especially 
when  we  take  into  the  account  the  entire  want  of  disci 
pline  in  the  army,  and  of  concert  among  its  leaders,  and 
when  we  remember  that  all  depended  on  that  spirit  of 
enthusiasm  which  glowed  in  the  breast  of  every  soldier, 
and  which  led  him,  under  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  to 
look  upon  himself  as  his  own  commander.  A  very  ordi- 


BUNKER    HILL  39 

nary  degree  of  candour  would  induce  the  belief,  that  if  there 
had  been  grounds  of  complaint  against  any  officer,  at  that 
time,  not  of  a  shadowy  and  unsubstantial  nature,  they  would 
have  been  attended  to  and  investigated.  That  was  cer 
tainly  a  jealous  period.  Every  officer  was  watched,  because 
it  was  the  beginning  of  a  civil  war,  and  dangers  were  to 
be  apprehended,  not  only  from  cowardice  but  from  defection. 
If  those  who  knew  General  Putnam's  behaviour  at  that 
time,  found  no  fault  with  it,  the  presumption  is,  that  no 
fault  could  be  found  with  it.  And  those,  whose  lips  were 
silent  then,  when  well-founded  complaints  would  have  been 
a  duty,  must  long  afterwards  and  after  the  death  of  the 
party,  be  heard  not  without  much  abatement  and  allowance. 


TICONDEROGA 

BENSON  JOHN   LOSSING 

THE  road  from  the  foot  of  Lake  George  to  Fort  "  Ty  " 
is  hilly,  but  the  varied  scenery  makes  the  ride  a 
pleasant  one.  We  crossed  the  outlet  of  the  lake  twice; 
first  at  the  Upper  Falls,  where  stands  the  dilapidated  vil 
lage  of  Alexandria,  its  industrial  energies  weighed  down,  I 
was  told,  by  the  narrow  policy  of  a  "  lord  of  the  manor  " 
residing  in  London,  who  owns  the  fee  of  all  the  land  and 
of  the  water  privileges,  and  will  not  sell,  or  give  long 
leases.  The  good  people  of  the  place  pray  for  his  life  to  be 
short  and  happy — a  very  generous  supplication.  From  the 
high  ground  near  the  village  a  fine  prospect  opened  on  the 
eastward ;  and  suddenly,  as  if  a  curtain  had  been  removed, 
the  cultivated  farms  and  pleasant  villages  of  Vermont  along 
the  lake  shore,  and  the  blue  line  of  the  Green  Mountains 
in  the  far  distance,  were  spread  out  before  us. 

The  second  or  Lower  Falls  is  half  way  between  the  two 
lakes,  and  here  the  thriving  village  of  Ticonderoga  is  situ 
ated.  A  bridge  and  a  saw-mill  were  there  many  years  before 
the  Revolution ;  and  this  is  the  spot  where  Lord  Howe,  at  the 
head  of  his  column,  crossed  the  stream  and  pushed  forward 
through  the  woods  toward  the  French  lines,  a  mile  and  a 
quarter  beyond.  We  arrived  at  the  Pavilion  near  the  fort 
at  one  o'clock,  dined,  and  with  a  small  party  set  off  imme 
diately  to  view  the  interesting  ruins  of  one  of  the  most 
noted  fortresses  in  America.  Before  noticing  its  present 
condition  and  appearance,  let  us  glance  at  its  past  history. 

Ticonderoga  is  a  corruption  of  Cheonderoga,  an  Iroquois 

40 


TICONDEROGA  41 

word,  signifying  Sounding  Waters,  and  was  applied  by  the 
Indians  to  the  rushing  waters  of  the  outlet  of  Lake  George 
at  the  falls.  The  French,  who  first  built  a  fort  at  Crown 
Point  (Fort  St.  Frederic),  established  themselves  upon  this 
peninsula  in  1755,  and  the  next  year  they  began  the  erection 
of  a  strong  fortress,  which  they  called  Fort  Carillon.1  The 
Indian  name  was  generally  applied  to  it,  and  by  that  only 
was  it  known  from  the  close  of  the  French  and  Indian  War 
in  1 763.2 

The  peninsula  is  elevated  more  than  one  hundred  feet 
above  the  lake,  and  contains  about  five  hundred  acres. 
Nature  and  art  made  it  a  strong  place.  Water  was  upon 
three  sides,  and  a  deep  swamp  extended  nearly  across  the 
fourth.  Within  a  mile  north  of  the  fortress  intrenchments 
were  thrown  up,  the  remains  of  which  may  still  be  seen  at 
each  side  of  the  road,  and  are  known  as  the  French  lines. 
The  whole  defences  were  completed  by  the  erection  of  a 
breast-work  nine  feet  high,  upon  the  narrowest  part  of  the 
neck  between  the  swamp  and  the  outlet  of  Lake  George; 
and  before  the  breast-work  was  a  strong  abattis. 

Here  was  the  general  rendezvous  of  the  French  under 
Montcalm,  preparatory  to  the  attack  on  Fort  William 
Henry.  It  continued  to  be  the  headquarters  of  that  general 
until  Quebec  was  threatened  by  an  expedition  under  Wolfe, 
up  the  St.  Lawrence,  when  he  abandoned  the  posts  on  Lake 
Champlain,  and  mustered  all  his  forces  at  the  capital  of 
Lower  Canada. 

Montcalm  commanded  a  force  of  four  thousand  men  at 

1This  is  a  French  word,  signifying  chime,  jingling,  noise,  bawl 
ing,  scolding,  racket,  clatter,  riot.  Its  application  to  this  spot  had 
the  same  reference  to  the  rush  of  waters  as  the  Indian  name, 
Cheonderoga. 

2  This  fortress  was  strongly  built.  Its  walls  and  barracks  were 
of  limestone,  and  everything  about  it  was  done  in  the  most  sub 
stantial  manner. 


42  TICONDEROGA 

Ticonderoga  when  Abercrombie  approached,  and  was  in 
daily  expectation  of  receiving  a  re-enforcement  of  three 
thousand  troops  under  M.  de  Levi.  The  English  com 
mander  was  advised  of  this  expected  re-enforcement  of  the 
garrison,  and  felt  the  necessity  of  making  an  immediate 
attack  upon  the  works.  His  army  moved  forward  in  three 
columns;  but  so  dense  was  the  forest  that  covered  the  whole 
country,  that  their  progress  was  slow.  They  were  also 
deficient  in  suitable  guides,  and  in  a  short  time  were  thrown 
into  a  great  deal  of  confusion.  They  pressed  steadily  for 
ward,  and  the  advanced  post  of  the  French  (a  breast-work 
of  logs)  was  set  fire  to  by  the  enemy  themselves  and  aban 
doned.  Lord  Howe,  who  was  Abercrombie's  lieutenant,  or 
second  in  command,  led  the  advanced  column;  and  as  they 
pressed  onward  after  crossing  the  bridge,  Major  Putnam, 
with  about  one  hundred  men,  advanced  as  a  scouting  party 
to  reconnoitre.  Lord  Howe,  eager  to  make  the  first  attack, 
proposed  to  accompany  Putnam,  but  the  Major  tried  to  dis 
suade  him,  by  saying,  "  My  lord,  if  I  am  killed  the  loss  of 
my  life  will  be  of  little  consequence,  but  the  preservation 
of  yours  is  of  infinite  importance  to  this  army."  The 
answer  was,  "  Putnam,  your  life  is  as  dear  to  you  as  mine 
is  to  me.  I  am  determined  to  go."  They  dashed  in  through 
the  woods,  and  in  a  few  minutes  fell  in  with  the  advanced 
guard  of  the  French,  who  had  retreated  from  the  first 
breast-works,  and  without  a  guide  and  bewildered,  were 
endeavouring  to  find  their  way  back  to  the  lines.  A  sharp 
skirmish  ensued,  and  at  the  first  fire  Lord  Howe,  another 
officer,  and  several  privates  were  killed.  The  French  were 
repulsed  with  a  loss  of  three  hundred  killed  and  one  hun 
dred  and  forty-eight  taken  prisoners.  The  English  columns 
were  so  much  broken,  confused,  and  fatigued,  that  Aber 
crombie  marched  them  back  to  the  landing-place  on  Lake 
George,  to  bivouac  for  the  night.  Early  the  next  morning 


TICONDEROGA  43 

Colonel  Bradstreet  advanced  and  took  possession  of  the 
saw-mill,  near  the  present  village  of  Ticonderoga,  which  the 
enemy  had  abandoned. 

Abercrombie  sent  an  engineer  to  reconnoitre,  and  on  his 
reporting  that  the  works  were  unfinished  and  might  easily 
be  taken,  the  British  troops  were  again  put  in  motion  toward 
the  fortress.  As  they  approached  the  lines,  the  French,  who 
were  completely  sheltered  behind  their  breast-works,  opened 
a  heavy  discharge  of  artillery  upon  them,  but  they  pressed 
steadily  forward  in  the  face  of  the  storm,  determined  to 
assault  the  works,  and  endeavour  to  carry  them  by  sword 
and  bayonet.  They  found  them  so  well  defended  by  a  deep 
abattis,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  reach  them;  yet, 
amid  the  galling  fire  of  the  enemy,  the  English  continued  for 
four  hours  striving  to  cut  their  way  through  the  limbs  and 
bushes  to  the  breast-works  with  their  swords.  Some  did, 
indeed,  mount  the  parapet,  but  in  a  moment  they  were 
slain.  Scores  of  Britons  were  mowred  down  at  every  dis 
charge  of  cannon.  Perceiving  the  rapid  reduction  of  his 
army,  Abercrombie  at  last  sounded  a  retreat;  and,  without 
being  pursued  by  the  French,  the  English  fell  back  to  their 
encampment  at  the  foot  of  Lake  George,  from  which  the 
wounded  were  sent  to  Fort  Edward  and  to  Albany.  The 
English  loss  was  nearly  two  thousand  men  and  twenty-five 
hundred  stand  of  arms.  Never  did  troops  show  bolder 
courage  or  more  obstinate  persistence  against  fearful  obsta 
cles.  The  whole  army  seemed  emulous  to  excel,  but  the 
Scotch  Highland  regiment  of  Lord  John  Murray  was  fore 
most  in  the  conflict,  and  suffered  the  severest  loss.  One- 
half  of  the  privates  and  twenty-five  officers  were  slain  on 
the  spot  or  badly  wounded.  Failing  in  this  attempt,  Aber 
crombie  changed  his  plans.  He  despatched  General  Stan- 
wix  to  build  a  fort  near  the  head-waters  of  the  Mohawk,  at 
the  site  of  the  present  village  of  Rome,  Oneida  County. 


44  TICONDEROGA 

Colonel  Bradstreet,  at  his  own  urgent  solicitation,  was  or 
dered,  with  three  thousand  troops,  mostly  provincials,  to 
proceed  by  the  way  of  Osewgo  and  Lake  Ontario,  to  attack 
Fort  Frontenac,  where  Kingston,  in  Upper  Canada,  now 
stands;  and  himself,  with  the  rest  of  the  army,  returned  to 
Albany. 

The  skill,  bravery,  and  activity  of  General  Amherst, 
exhibited  in  the  capture  of  Louisburg,  gained  him  a  vote 
of  thanks  from  Parliament,  and  commended  him  to  Pitt, 
who,  the  next  year,  appointed  him  to  the  chief  command  in 
America,  in  place  of  the  less  active  Abercrombie.  So  much 
did  Pitt  rely  upon  his  judgment  and  ability,  that  he  clothed 
him  with  discretionary  powers  to  take  measures  to  make  the 
complete  conquest  of  all  Canada  in  a  single  campaign.  His 
plans  were  arranged  upon  a  magnificent  scale.  Appreci 
ating  the  services  of  Wolfe,  one  expedition  was  placed  under 
his  command,  to  ascend  the  St.  Lawrence  and  attack  Quebec. 
General  Prideaux  was  sent  with  another  expedition  to  cap 
ture  the  stronghold  of  Niagara,  while  Amherst  himself  took 
personal  command  of  a  third  expedition  against  the  fortress 
on  Lake  Champlain.  It  was  arranged  for  the  three  armies 
to  form  a  junction  as  conquerors  at  Quebec.  Prideaux, 
after  capturing  the  fort  at  Niagara,  was  to  proceed  down  the 
lake  and  St.  Lawrence  to  attack  Montreal  and  the  posts 
below,  and  Amherst  was  to  push  forward  after  the  capture 
of  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Ponit,  down  the  Richelieu  or 
Sorel  River,  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  join  with  Wolfe  at 
Quebec. 

Amherst  collected  about  eleven  thousand  men  at  Fort 
Edward  and  its  vicinity,  and,  moving  cautiously  along  Lake 
Champlain,  crossed  the  outlet  of  Lake  George,  and  ap 
peared  before  Ticonderoga  on  the  26th  of  July.  He  met 
with  no  impediments  by  the  way,  and  at  once  made  prepara 
tions  for  reducing  the  fortress  by  a  regular  siege.  The  gar- 


TICONDEROGA  45 

rison  were  strong,  and  evinced  a  disposition  to  make  a  vig 
orous  resistance.  They  soon  discovered,  however,  that  they 
had  not  Abercrombie  to  deal  with,  and,  despairing  of  being 
able  to  hold  out  against  the  advancing  English,  they  dis 
mantled  and  abandoned  the  fort,  and  fled  to  Crown  Point. 
Not  a  gun  was  fired  or  a  sword  crossed;  and  the  next  day 
Amherst  marched  in  and  took  possession  of  the  fort.  He  at 
once  set  about  repairing  and  enlarging  it,  and  also  arrang 
ing  an  expedition  against  the  enemy  at  Crown  Point,  when, 
to  his  astonishment,  he  learned  from  his  scouts  that  they  had 
abandoned  that  post  also,  and  fled  down  the  lake  to  Isle 
Aux  Noix  in  the  Richelieu  or  Sorel. 

The  contempt  with  which  the  loyal  and  respectful  ad 
dresses  of  the  first  Continental  Congress  of  1774  were  treated 
by  the  British  ministry  and  a  majority  in  Parliament;  the 
harsh  measures  adopted  by  the  government  early  in  1775, 
to  coerce  the  colonists  into  submission,  and  the  methodical 
tyranny  of  General  Gage  at  Boston,  and  of  other  Colonial 
governors,  convinced  the  Americans  that  an  appeal  to  arms 
was  inevitable.  They  were  convinced,  also,  that  the  prov 
ince  of  Quebec,  or  Canada,  would  remain  loyal,  and  that 
there  would  be  a  place  of  rendezvous  for  British  troops  when 
the  colonies  should  unite  in  open  and  avowed  rebellion. 
The  strong  fortresses  of  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point 
formed  the  key  of  all  communication  between  New  York 
and  Canada,  and  the  vigilant  patriots  of  Massachusetts, 
then  the  very  hot-bed  of  rebellion,  early  perceived  the  ne 
cessity  of  securing  these  post  the  moment  hostilities  should 
commence. 

Early  in  March,  Samuel  Adams  and  Joseph  Warren, 
members  of  the  Committee  of  Correspondence  of  Boston, 
sent  a  secret  agent  into  Canada  to  ascertain  the  opinions  and 
temper  of  the  people  of  that  province  concerning  the  great 
questions  at  issue  and  the  momentous  events  then  pending. 


46  TICONDEROGA 

After  a  diligent  but  cautious  performance  of  his  delicate 
task,  the  agent  sent  word  to  them  from  Montreal  that  the 
people  were,  at  best,  lukewarm,  and  advised  that,  the  mo 
ment  hostilities  commenced,  Ticonderoga  and  its  garrison 
should  be  seized.  This  advice  was  coupled  with  the  positive 
assertion  that  the  people  of  the  New  Hampshire  Grants 
were  ready  to  undertake  the  bold  enterprise. 

Within  three  weeks  after  this  information  was  received 
by  Adams  and  Warren,  the  battle  of  Lexington  occurred. 
The  event  aroused  the  whole  country,  and  the  patriots 
flocked  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Boston  from  all  quarters. 
The  Provincial  Assembly  of  Connecticut  was  then  in  ses 
sion,  and  several  of  its  members  concerted  and  agreed  upon 
a  plan  to  seize  the  munitions  of  war  at  Ticonderoga,  for 
the  use  of  the  army  gathering  at  Cambridge  and  Roxbury. 
They  appointed  Edward  Mott  and  Noah  Phelps  a  commit 
tee  to  proceed  to  the  frontier  towns,  ascertain  the  condition 
of  the  fort  and  the  strength  of  the  garrison,  and,  if  they 
thought  it  expedient,  to  raise  men  and  attempt  the  surprise 
and  capture  of  the  post.  One  thousand  dollars  were  ad 
vanced  from  the  provincial  treasury  to  pay  the  expenses  of 
the  expedition. 

The  whole  plan  and  proceedings  were  of  a  private  char 
acter,  without  the  public  sanction  of  the  Assembly,  but  with 
its  full  knowledge  and  tacit  approbation.  Mott  and  Phelps 
collected  sixteen  men  as  they  passed  through  Connecticut; 
and  at  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts,  they  laid  their  plans  before 
Colonel  Easton  and  John  Brown,  who  agreed  to  join  them. 
Colonel  Easton  enlisted  volunteers  from  his  regiment  of 
militia  as  he  passed  through  the  country,  and  about  forty  had 
been  engaged  when  he  reached  Bennington.  There  Colonel 
Ethan  Allen,  a  man  of  strong  mind,  vigorous  frame,  upright 
in  all  his  ways,  fearless  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty,  and  a 
zealous  patriot,  joined  the  expedition  with  his  Green  Moun- 


TICONDEROGA  47 

tain  Boys,  and  the  whole  party,  two  hundred  and  seventy  men, 
reached  Castleton,  fourteen  miles  east  of  Skenesborough,  or 
Whitehall,  at  dusk  on  the  yth  of  May.  A  council  of  war 
was  immediately  held,  and  Allen  was  appointed  commander 
of  the  expedition,  Colonel  James  Easton,  second  in  command, 
and  Seth  Warner,  third.  It  was  arranged  that  Allen  and 
the  principal  officers,  with  the  main  body,  should  march  to 
Shoreham,  opposite  Ticonderoga;  that  Captain  Herrick, 
with  thirty  men,  should  push  on  to  Skenesborough,  and  cap 
ture  the  young  Major  Skene  (son  of  the  governor,  who 
was  then  in  England),  confine  his  people,  and,  seizing  all 
the  boats  they  might  find  there,  hasten  to  join  Allen  at 
Shoreham;  and  that  Captain  Douglas  should  proceed  to 
Panton,  beyond  Crown  Point,  and  secure  every  boat  or 
bateau  that  should  fall  in  their  way. 

Benedict  Arnold,  who  joined  the  army  about  this  time, 
doubtless  received  a  hint  of  this  expedition  before  he  left 
New  Haven,  for  the  moment  he  arrived  at  Cambridge  with 
the  company  of  which  he  was  captain,  he  presented  himself 
before  the  Committee  of  Safety,  and  proposed  a  similar 
expedition  in  the  same  direction.  He  made  the  thing  appear 
so  feasible,  that  the  committee  eagerly  accepted  his  proposal, 
granted  him  a  colonel's  commission,  and  gave  him  the  chief 
command  of  troops,  not  exceeding  four  hundred  in  number, 
which  he  might  raise  to  accompany  him  on  an  expedition 
against  the  lake  fortresses.  Not  doubting  his  success, 
Arnold  was  instructed  to  leave  a  sufficient  garrison  at  Ticon 
deroga,  and  with  the  rest  of  the  troops  to  return  to  Cam 
bridge  with  the  arms  and  military  stores  that  should  fall 
into  his  possession.  He  was  also  supplied  with  one  hundred 
pounds  in  cash,  two  hundred  pounds  weight  each  of  gun 
powder  and  leaden  balls,  one  thousand  flints,  and  ten  horses, 
by  the  Provincial  Congress  of  Massachusetts.  His  instruc 
tions  were  to  raise  men  in  Western  Massachusetts,  but,  on 


48  TICONDEROGA 

reaching  Stockbridge,  he  was  disappointed  in  finding  that 
another  expedition  had  anticipated  him,  and  was  on  its  way 
to  the  lake.  He  remained  only  long  enough  to  engage  a  few 
officers  and  men  to  follow  him,  and  then  hastened  onward  and 
joined  the  other  expedition  at  Castleton.  He  introduced  him 
self  to  the  officers,  pulled  a  bit  of  parchment  from  his  pocket, 
and,  by  virtue  of  what  he  averred  was  a  superior  commis 
sion,  as  it  was  from  the  Massachusetts  Committee  of  Safety, 
claimed  the  supreme  command.  This  was  objected  to,  for 
he  came  single-handed,  without  officers  or  troops;  and  the 
soldiers,  a  large  portion  of  whom  were  Green  Mountain 
Boys,  and  who  were  much  attached  to  Allen,  declared  that 
they  would  shoulder  their  muskets  and  march  home  rather 
than  serve  under  any  other  leader.  Arnold  made  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  and  united  himself  to  the  expedition  as  a  volun 
teer,  maintaining  his  rank,  but  having  no  command. 

The  momentary  interruption  of  Arnold  produced  no 
change  in  the  plans,  and  Allen  marched  to  the  shore  of  the 
lake,  opposite  Ticonderoga,  during  the  night.  He  applied 
to  a  farmer  in  Shoreham,  named  Beman,  for  a  guide,  who 
offered  his  son  Nathan,  a  lad  who  passed  a  good  deal  of 
time  within  the  fort,  with  the  boys  of  the  garrison,  and  was 
well  acquainted  with  every  secret  way  that  led  to  or  within 
the  fortress.  But  a  serious  difficulty  now  occurred.  They 
had  but  a  few  boats,  and  none  had  been  sent  from  Skenes- 
borough  or  Panton.  The  day  began  to  dawn,  and  only  the 
officers  and  eighty-three  men  had  crossed  the  lake.  Delay 
was  hazardous,  for  the  garrison,  if  aroused,  would  make 
stout  resistance.  Allen,  therefore,  resolved  not  to  wait  for 
the  rear  division  to  cross,  but  to  attack  the  fort  at  once. 
He  drew  up  his  men  in  three  ranks  upon  the  shore,  directly 
in  front  of  where  the  Pavilion  now  stands,  and  in  a  low 
but  distinct  tone  briefly  harangued  them;  and  then,  placing 
himself  at  their  head,  with  Arnold  by  his  side,  they  marched 


TICONDEROGA  49 

quickly  but  stealthily  up  the  height  to  the  sally  port.  The 
sentinel  snapped  his  fusee  at  the  commander,  but  it  missed 
fire,  and  he  retreated  within  the  fort  under  a  covered  way. 
The  Americans  followed  close  upon  his  heels,  and  were  thus 
guided  by  the  alarmed  fugitive  directly  to  the  parade  within 
the  barracks.  There  another  sentinel  made  a  thrust  at 
Easton,  but  a  blow  upon  the  head  from  Allen's  sword  made 
him  beg  for  quarter,  and  the  patriots  met  with  no  further 
resistance. 

As  the  troops  rushed  into  the  parade  under  the  covered 
way,  they  gave  a  tremendous  shout,  and,  filing  off  into  two 
divisions,  formed  a  line  of  forty  men  each  along  the  south 
western  and  northeastern  range  of  barracks.  The  aroused 
garrison  leaped  from  their  pallets,  seized  their  arms,  and 
rushed  for  the  parade,  but  only  to  be  made  prisoners  by  the 
intrepid  New  Englanders.  At  the  same  moment  Allen, 
with  young  Beman  at  his  elbow  as  guide,  ascended  the  steps 
to  the  door  of  the  quarters  of  Captain  Delaplace,  the  com 
mandant  of  the  garrison,  and,  giving  three  loud  raps  with 
the  hilt  of  his  sword,  with  a  voice  of  peculiar  power,  ordered 
him  to  appear,  or  the  whole  garrison  should  be  sacrificed. 
It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The  loud  shouts 
of  the  invaders  had  awakened  the  captain  and  his  wife,  both 
of  whom  sprang  to  the  door  just  as  Allen  made  his  strange 
demand.  Delaplace  appeared  in  shirt  and  drawers,  with  the 
frightened  face  of  his  pretty  wife  peering  over  his  shoulder. 
He  and  Allen  had  been  old  friends,  and,  upon  recognition, 
the  captain  assumed  boldness,  and,  authoritatively  demanded 
his  disturber's  errand.  Allen  pointed  to  his  men  and  sternly 
exclaimed,  "  I  order  you  instantly  to  surrender."  "  By 
what  authority  do  you  demand  it?"  said  Delaplace.  "In 
the  name  of  the  Great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Con 
gress!  "  thundered  Allen,  and,  raising  his  sword  over  the 
head  of  the  captain,  who  was  about  to  speak,  ordered  him 


50  TICONDEROGA 

to  be  silent  and  surrender  immediately.  There  was  no 
alternative.  Delaplace  had  about  as  much  respect  for  the 
"  Continental  Congress  "  as  Allen  had  for  "  Jehovah,"  and 
they  respectively  relied  upon  and  feared  powder  and  ball 
more  than  either.  In  fact,  the  Continental  Congress  was 
but  a  shadow,  for  it  did  not  meet  for  organization  until  six 
hours  afterward,  and  its  "  authority  "  was  yet  scarcely  ac 
knowledged  even  by  patriots  in  the  field.  But  Delaplace 
ordered  his  troops  to  parade  without  arms,  the  garrison  of 
forty-eight  men  were  surrendered  prisoners  of  war,  and, 
with  the  women  and  children,  were  sent  to  Hartford,  in 
Connecticut.  The  spoils  were  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pieces  of  iron  cannon,  fifty  swivels,  two  ten-inch  mortars, 
one  howitzer,  one  cohorn,  ten  tons  of  musket  balls,  three 
cartloads  of  flints,  thirty  new  carriages,  a  considerable  quan 
tity  of  shells,  a  warehouse  full  of  material  for  boat  building, 
one  hundred  stand  of  small  arms,  ten  casks  of  poor  powder, 
two  brass  cannon,  thirty  barrels  of  flour,  eighteen  barrels  of 
pork,  and  some  beans  and  peas. 

Warner  crossed  the  lake  with  the  rear  division,  and 
marched  up  to  the  fort  just  after  the  surrender  was  made. 
As  soon  as  the  prisoners  were  secured,  and  all  had  break 
fasted,  he  was  sent  off  with  a  detachment  of  men  in  boats  to 
take  Crown  Point;  but  a  strong  head-wind  drove  them  back, 
and  they  slept  that  night  at  Ticonderoga.  Another  and 
successful  attempt  was  made  on  the  I2th,  and  both  fortresses 
fell  into  the  hands  of  the  patriots  without  bloodshed. 


LAKE  CHAMPLAIN 
FRANCIS    PARKMAN 

THIS  beautiful  lake  owes  its  name  to  Saumel  de  Cham- 
plain,  the  founder  of  Quebec.  In  1609,  long  before 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers  landed  at  Plymouth,  he  joined  a  band 
of  Huron  and  Algonquin  warriors  on  an  expedition  against 
their  enemies,  the  Iroquois,  since  known  as  the  Five  Na 
tions  of  New  York.  While  gratifying  his  own  love  of  ad 
venture,  he  expected  to  make  important  geographical  dis 
coveries. 

After  a  grand  war-dance  at  the  infant  settlement  of 
Quebec,  the  allies  set  out  together.  Champlain  was  in  a 
boat,  carrying,  besides  himself,  eleven  men,  chief  among 
whom  were  one  Marais  and  a  pilot  named  La  Routte,  all 
armed  with  the  arquebuse,  a  species  of  firearm  shorter  than 
the  musket,  and  therefore  better  fitted  for  the  woods. 

They  ascended  the  St.  Lawrence  and  entered  the  Rich 
elieu,  which  forms  the  outlet  of  Lake  Champlain.  Here, 
to  Champlain's  great  disappointment,  he  found  his  farther 
progress  barred  by  the  rapids  at  Chambly,  though  the  In 
dians  had  assured  him  that  his  boat  could  pass  all  the  way 
unobstructed.  He  told  them  that  though  they  had  deceived 
him,  he  would  not  abandon  them,  sent  Marais  with  the  boat 
and  most  of  the  men  back  to  Quebec,  and,  with  two  who 
offered  to  follow  him,  prepared  to  go  on  in  the  Indian 
canoes. 

The  warriors  lifted  their  canoes  from  the  water,  and  in. 
long  procession  through  the  forest,  under  the  flickering  sun 
and  shade,  bore  them  on  their  shoulders  around  the  rapids 


52  LAKE    CHAMPLAIN 

to  the  smooth  stream  above.  Here  the  chiefs  made  a  muster 
of  their  forces,  counting  twenty-four  canoes  and  sixty  war 
riors.  All  embarked  again,  and  advanced  once  more,  by 
marsh,  meadow,  forest,  and  scattered  islands,  then  full  of 
game,  for  it  was  an  uninhabited  land,  the  warpath  and 
battle-ground  of  hostile  tribes.  The  warriors  observed  a 
certain  system  in  their  advance.  Some  were  in  front  as  a 
vanguard ;  others  formed  the  main  body ;  wrhile  an  equal 
number  were  in  the  forests  on  the  flanks  and  rear,  hunting 
for  the  subsistence  of  the  whole;  for,  though  they  had  a 
provision  of  parched  maize  pounded  into  meal,  they  kept  it 
for  use  when,  from  the  vicinity  of  the  enemy,  hunting  should 
become  impossible. 

Still  the  canoes  advanced,  the  river  widening  as  they 
went.  Great  islands  appeared,  leagues  in  extent:  Isle  a  la 
Motte,  Long  Island,  Grande  Isle.  Channels  where  ships 
might  float  and  broad  reaches  of  expanding  water  stretched 
Between  them,  and  Champlain  entered  the  lake  which  pre 
serves  his  name  to  posterity.  Cumberland  Head  was  passed, 
and  from  the  opening  of  the  great  channel  between  Grande 
Isle  and  the  main,  he  could  look  forth  on  the  wilderness 
sea.  Edged  with  woods,  the  tranquil  flood  spread  south 
ward  beyond  the  sight.  Far  on  the  left,  the  forest  ridges 
of  the  Green  Mountains  were  heaved  against  the  sun, 
patches  of  snow  still  glistening  on  their  tops;  and  on  the 
right  rose  the  Adirondacks,  haunts  in  these  later  years  of 
amateur  sportsmen  from  counting-rooms  or  college  halls, 
nay,  of  adventurous  beauty,  with  sketch-book  and  pencil. 
Then  the  Iroquois  made  them  their  hunting-ground ;  and 
beyond,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Mohawk,  the  Onondaga,  and 
the  Genesee,  stretched  the  long  line  of  their  five  cantons 
and  palisaded  towns. 

The  progress  of  the  party  was  becoming  dangerous.  They 
changed  their  mode  of  advance,  and  moved  only  in  the 


LAKE    CHAMPLAIN  53 

night.  All  day,  they  lay  close  in  the  depth  of  the  forest, 
sleeping,  lounging,  smoking  tobacco  of  their  own  raising, 
and  beguiling  the  hours,  no  doubt,  with  the  shallow  banter 
and  obscene  jesting  with  which  knots  of  Indians  are  wont 
to  amuse  their  leisure.  At  twilight  they  embarked  again, 
paddling  their  cautious  way  till  the  eastern  sky  began  to 
redden.  Their  goal  was  the  rocky  promontory  where  Fort 
Ticonderoga  was  long  afterward  built.  Thence,  they  would 
pass  the  outlet  of  Lake  George,  and  launch  their  canoes 
again  on  that  Como  of  the  wilderness,  whose  waters,  limpid 
as  a  fountain-head,  stretched  far  southward  between  their 
flanking  mountains.  Landing  at  the  future  site  of  Fort 
William  Henry,  they  would  carry  their  canoes  through  the 
forest  to  the  River  Hudson,  and  descending  it,  attack,  per 
haps,  some  outlying  town  of  the  Mohawks.  In  the  next 
century  this  chain  of  lakes  and  rivers  became  the  grand 
highway  of  savage  and  civilized  war,  a  bloody,  debatable 
ground  linked  to  memories  of  momentous  conflicts. 

The  allies  were  spared  so  long  a  progress.  On  the  morn 
ing  of  the  twenty-ninth  of  July,  after  paddling  all  night, 
they  hid  as  usual  in  the  forest  on  the  western  shore,  not  far 
from  Crown  Point.  The  warriors  stretched  themselves  to 
their  slumbers,  and  Champlain,  after  walking  for  a  time 
through  the  surrounding  woods,  returned  to  take  his  repose 
on  a  pile  of  spruce  boughs.  Sleeping,  he  dreamed  a  dream, 
wherein  he  beheld  the  Iroquois  drowning  in  the  lake;  and, 
essaying  to  rescue  them,  he  was  told  by  his  Algonquin  friends 
that  they  were  good  for  nothing  and  had  better  be  left  to 
their  fate.  Now,  he  had  been  daily  beset,  on  awakening,  by 
his  superstitious  allies,  eager  to  learn  about  his  dreams;  and, 
to  this  moment,  his  unbroken  slumbers  had  failed  to  furnish 
the  desired  prognostics.  The  announcement  of  this  aus 
picious  vision  filled  the  crowd  with  joy,  and  at  nightfall  they 
embarked,  flushed  with  anticipated  victories. 


54 


LAKE    CHAMPLAIN 


It  was  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  when  they  descried 
dark  objects  in  motion  on  the  lake  before  them.  These  were 
a  flotilla  of  Iroquois  canoes,  heavier  and  slower  than  theirs, 
for  they  were  made  of  oak  or  elm  bark.  Each  party  saw 
the  other,  and  the  mingled  war-cries  pealed  over  the  dark 
ened  water.  The  Iroquois,  who  were  near  the  shore,  hav 
ing  no  stomach  for  an  aquatic  battle,  landed,  and,  making 
night  hideous  with  their  clamours,  began  to  barricade  them 
selves.  Champlain  could  see  them  in  the  woods,  labouring 
like  beavers,  hacking  down  trees  with  iron  axes  taken  from 
the  Canadian  tribes  in  war,  and  with  stone  hatchets  of  their 
own  making.  The  allies  remained  on  the  lake,  a  bowshot 
from  the  hostile  barricade,  their  canoes  made  fast  together 
by  poles  lashed  across.  All  night,  they  danced  with  as  much 
vigour  as  the  fraility  of  their  vessels  would  permit,  their 
throats  making  amends  for  the  enforced  restraint  of  their 
limbs.  It  was  agreed  on  both  sides  that  the  fight  should  be 
deferred  till  daybreak;  but  meanwhile  a  commerce  of  abuse, 
sarcasm,  menace,  and  boasting  gave  unceasing  exercise  to  the 
lungs  and  fancy  of  the  combatants, — "  much,"  says  Cham- 
plain,  "  like  the  besiegers  and  besieged  in  a  beleagured 
town." 

As  day  approached,  he  and  his  two  followers  put  on  the 
light  armour  of  the  time.  Champlain  wore  the  doublet  and 
long  hose  then  in  vogue.  Over  the  doublet  he  buckled  on 
a  breastplate,  and  probably  a  back-piece,  while  his  thighs 
were  protected  by  cuisses  of  steel,  and  his  head  by  a  plumed 
casque.  Across  his  shoulder  hung  the  strap  of  his  bando 
leer,  or  ammunition-box;  at  his  side  was  his  sword,  and  in 
his  hand  his  arquebuse,  which  he  had  loaded  with  four 
balls.  Such  was  the  equipment  of  this  ancient  Indian- 
fighter,  whose  exploits  date  eleven  years  before  the  landing 
of  the  Puritans  at  Plymouth,  and  sixty-six  years  before 
King  Philip's  War. 


LAKE    CHAMPLAIN  55 

Each  of  the  three  Frenchmen  was  in  a  separate  canoe, 
and,  as  it  grew  light,  they  kept  themselves  hidden,  either  by 
lying  at  the  bottom,  or  covering  themselves  with  an  Indian 
robe.  The  canoes  approached  the  shore,  and  all  landed  with 
out  opposition  at  some  distance  from  the  Iroquois,  whom 
they  presently  could  see  filing  out  of  the  barricade,  tall  and 
strong  men,  some  two  hundred  in  number,  of  the  boldest 
and  fiercest  warriors  of  North  America.  They  advanced 
through  the  forest  with  a  steadiness  which  excited  the  admir 
ation  of  Champlain.  Among  them  could  be  seen  several 
chiefs,  made  conspicuous  by  their  tall  plumes.  Some  bore 
shields  of  wood  and  hide,  and  some  were  covered  with  a 
kind  of  armour  made  of  tough  twigs  interlaced  with  a  vege 
table  fibre  supposed  by  Champlain  to  be  cotton. 

The  allies,  growing  anxious,  called  with  loud  cries  for 
their  champion,  and  opened  their  ranks  that  he  might  pass 
to  the  front.  He  did  so,  and,  advancing  before  his  red 
companions-in-arms,  stood  revealed  to  the  astonished  gaze 
of  the  Iroquois,  who,  beholding  the  warlike  apparition  in 
their  path,  stared  in  mute  amazement.  But  his  arquebuse 
was  levelled ;  the  report  startled  the  woods,  a  chief  fell  dead, 
and  another  by  his  side  rolled  among  the  bushes.  Then 
there  arose  from  the  allies  a  yell,  which,  says  Champlain, 
would  have  drowned  a  thunder-clap,  and  the  forest  was  full 
of  whizzing  arrows.  For  a  moment,  the  Iroquois  stood 
firm  and  sent  back  their  arrows  lustily;  but  when  another 
and  another  gunshot  came  from  the  thickets  on  their  flank, 
they  broke  and  fled  in  uncontrollable  terror.  Swifter  than 
hounds,  the  allies  tore  through  the  bushes  in  pursuit.  Some 
of  the  Iroquois  were  killed ;  more  were  taken.  Camp,  ca 
noes,  provisions,  all  were  abandoned,  and  many  weapons 
flung  down  in  the  panic  flight.  The  arquebuse  had  done  its 
work.  The  victory  was  complete. 

The  victors  made  a  prompt   retreat   from   the  scene  of 


56  LAKE    CHAMPLAIN 

their  triumph.  Three  or  four  days  brought  them  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Richelieu.  Here  they  separated;  the  Hurons 
and  Algonquins  made  for  the  Ottawa,  their  homeward 
route,  each  with  a  share  of  prisoners  for  future  tor 
ments.  At  parting  they  invited  Champlain  to  visit  their 
towns  and  aid  them  in  their  wars, — an  invitation  which  this 
paladin  of  the  woods  failed  not  to  accept. 

Thus  did  New  France  rush  into  collision  with  the  re 
doubted  warriors  of  the  Five  Nations.  Here  was  the  be 
ginning,  in  some  measure  doubtless  the  cause,  of  a  long 
suite  of  murderous  conflicts,  bearing  havoc  and  flame  to 
generations  yet  unborn.  Champlain  had  invaded  the  tiger's 
den;  and  now,  in  smothered  fury,  the  patient  savage  would 
lie  biding  his  day  of  blood. 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

JAMES  ANTHONY  FROUDE 

THE  weather  cooled  perceptibly  when  we  left  the 
tropics — we  met  the  keen  north  wind  which  blows 
almost  all  the  year  down  the  Western  American  coast. 

On  April  20,  we  entered  between  the  Heads  into  the  Bay 
of  San  Francisco,  and  saw  the  smoke  of  the  Golden  City 
six  miles  in  front  of  us.  The  opening  is  extremely  striking 
— the  bay  itself  is  as  large  as  Port  Jackson.  The  hills  are 
higher,  the  outlines  grander.  The  only  inferiority  is  in  the 
absence  of  timber.  There  was  grass  everywhere,  in  the 
freshness  of  spring,  but  not  a  tree  that  we  could  see  from 
the  water;  and  we  felt  the  bareness  more  strongly  after 
New  Zealand  and  Australia.  Another  difference  made  it 
self  felt,  the  effect  of  which  it  was  impossible  to  resist. 
There  had  been  life  and  energy  in  Melbourne  and  Sydney, 
with  crowded  docks  and  growing  enterprise;  but  an  Amer 
ican  city — and  San  Francisco  especially — is  more  than  they. 
The  very  pilot's  voice  as  he  came  on  board  had  a  ring  of 
decision  about  it.  The  great  liners  passing  in  and  out  with 
the  stars  and  stripes  flying;  the  huge  ferry-boats  rushing 
along,  deck  rising  above  deck,  and  black  with  passengers; 
the  lines  of  houses  on  the  shore,  stretching  leagues  beyond 
the  actual  town,  all  spoke  of  the  pulsations  of  a  great  na 
tional  existence,  which  were  beating  to  its  farthest  extremity. 

San  Francisco,  half  a  century  ago,  was  a  sleepy  Spanish 
village.  It  is  now  one  of  the  most  important  cities  of  the 
world,  destined,  if  things  continue  as  they  are,  to  expand 
into  dimensions  to  which  the  present  size  of  it  is  nothing,  for 

57 


58  SAN   FRANCISCO 

it  is  and  must  be  the  chief  outlet  into  the  Pacific  of  the 
trade  of  the  American  Continent. 

I  had  already  seen  the  Eastern  States,  but  California  was 
new  to  me.  California  with  its  gold  and  its  cornfields,  its 
conifers  and  its  grizzlies,  its  diggers  and  its  hidalgos,  its 
"  heathen  Chinese  "  and  its  Yankee  millionaires,  was  a  land 
of  romance,  the  wonders  of  which  passed  belief,  and  it  was 
with  a  sort  of  youthful  excitement  that  I  found  myself 
landed  at  Frisco.  The  prosaic  asserted  itself  there  as  else 
where.  There  were  customs'  officers  and  a  searching  of 
portmanteaus.  This  over,  we  had  to  find  our  quarters.  We 
were  on  a  long  platform,  roofed  over  like  a  railway  station, 
and  within  the  precincts  the  public  were  not  admitted.  At 
the  far  end  was  a  large  open  door,  and  outside  a  mob  of 
human  creatures,  pushing,  scrambling,  and  howling  like  the 
beasts  in  a  menagerie  at  feeding  time.  There  they  were  in 
hundreds,  waiting  to  plunge  upon  us,  and  (if  they  did  not 
tear  us  in  pieces  in  the  process)  to  carry  us  off  to  one  or 
other  of  the  rival  caravanserais.  Never  did  I  hear  such  a 
noise,  save  in  an  Irish  fair;  never  was  I  in  such  a  scuffle. 
We  had  to  fight  for  our  lives,  for  our  luggage,  and  for  our 
dollars,  if  the  Philistines  were  not  to  spoil  us  utterly.  All, 
however,  was  at  last  safely  and  reasonably  accomplished. 
We  were  driven  away  to  the  Palace  Hotel,  where  the  storm 
turned  to  calm,  and  my  acquaintance  with  California  and 
its  ways  was  practically  to  commence. 

The  Palace  Hotel  at  San  Francisco  is,  I  believe,  the 
largest  in  the  world — the  largest,  but  by  no  means  the 
ugliest,  as  I  had  expected  to  find.  It  is  a  vast  quadrilateral 
building,  seven  or  eight  stories  high,  but  in  fair  proportions. 
You  enter  under  a  handsome  archway,  and  you  find  yourself 
in  a  central  court,  as  in  the  hotels  at  Paris,  but  completely 
roofed  over  with  glass.  The  floor  is  of  polished  stone.  Tiers 
of  galleries  run  around  it,  tier  above  tier,  and  two  lifts  are 


SAN   FRANCISCO  59 

in  constant  action,  which  deposit  you  on  the  floor  to  which 
you  are  consigned.  There  is  no  gaudiness  or  tinsel.  The 
taste  in  California  is  generally  superior  to  what  you  see  in 
New  York.  I  expected  the  prices  of  New  York,  or  of 
Auckland  or  Sydney.  Money  was  reported  to  flow  in  rivers 
there,  and  other  things  to  be  dear  in  proportion.  I  was 
agreeably  disappointed.  Our  apartments — mine  and  my 
son's — consisted  of  a  sitting-room  au  troisieme,  so  large  that 
a  bed  in  it  was  no  inconvenience;  a  deep  alcove  with  another 
bed,  divided  off  by  glass  doors;  a  dressing-room  and  a  bath 
room,  with  all  the  other  accompaniments.  Our  meals  were 
in  the  great  dining-room  at  fixed  hours,  but  with  a  liberal 
time  allowance.  We  could  order  our  dinners  and  breakfasts 
from  the  carte,  with  as  large  a  choice  and  quality  as  excel 
lent  as  one  could  order  in  the  Palais  Royal,  if  one  was  re 
gardless  of  expense.  Unnumbered  niggers  attended  in  full 
dress — white  waistcoat,  white  neckcloth,  with  the  conse 
quentially  deferential  manners  of  a  duke's  master  of  the 
household;  and  for  all  this  sumptuosity  we  were  charged 
three  dollars  and  a  half  each,  or  about  fifteen  shillings. 
Nowhere  in  Europe,  nowhere  else  in  America,  can  one  be 
lodged  and  provided  for  on  such  a  scale  and  on  such  terms — 
and  this  was  California, 

Americans  are  very  good  to  strangers,  and  the  Califor- 
nians  are  in  this  respect  the  best  of  Americans.  An  agree 
able  and  accomplished  Mr.  G ,  who  had  come  from 

New  Zealand  with  us,  lived  in  San  Francisco.  He  was 
kind  enough  to  take  me  in  charge,  and  show  me,  not  trees 
and  rocks,  but  things  and  people.  The  Chinese  quarter  is 
to  Englishmen  the  principal  object  of  attraction.  They  go 
there  at  night  under  a  guard  of  police,  for  it  is  lawless  and 
dangerous.  Had  I  known  any  of  the  Chinese  themselves, 
who  would  have  shown  me  the  better  side  of  them,  I  should 
have  been  willing  to  go.  But  I  did  not  care  to  go  among 


60  SAN   FRANCISCO 

human  beings  as  if  they  were  wild  beasts,  and  stare  at  opium 
orgies  and  gambling-hells.  Parties  of  us  did  go,  and  they 

said  they  were  delighted.     I  went  with  Mr.  G about 

the  streets.  The  first  place  I  look  for  in  a  new  city  is  the 
market.  One  sees  the  natural  produce  of  all  kinds  gath 
ered  there.  One  sees  what  people  buy  on  the  spot  and 
"  consume  on  the  premises,"  as  distinct  from  what  is  raised 
for  export.  One  learns  the  cost  of  things,  and  can  form 
one's  own  estimate  of  the  manner  in  which  the  country  peo 
ple  occupy  themselves,  and  how  they  are  able  to  live.  The 
market-place  in  San  Francisco  told  its  story  in  a  moment. 
Vegetables  and  fruits,  the  finest  that  I  ever  saw  exposed  for 
sale,  were  at  half  the  English  prices.  Meat  was  at  half  the 
English  price.  I  lunched  on  oysters,  plump  and  delicate  as 
the  meal-fattened  Colchester  natives  used  to  be,  at  a  cent 
(a  half-penny)  a  piece.  Salmon  were  lying  out  on  the 
marble  slabs,  caught  within  two  hours  in  the  Sacramento 
River,  superb  as  ever  came  from  Tay  or  Tweed,  for  three 
cents  a  pound. 

From  the  market  we  went  to  the  clubs,  where  the  men 
would  be  found  who  were  carrying  on  the  business  of  this 
late-born  but  immense  emporium — bankers,  merchants,  pol 
iticians.  The  Eastern  question,  the  Egyptian  business,  etc., 
were  discussed  in  the  cool,  incisive  American  manner,  and 
the  opinions  expressed  were  not  favourable  to  our  existing 
methods  of  administration.  How  we  had  come  to  fall  into 
such  a  state  of  distraction  seemed  to  be  understood  with 
some  distinctness,  but  less  distinctly  how  we  were  to  get  out 
of  it.  In  the  Bohemian  Club  the  tone  was  lighter  and 
brighter.  We  do  not  live  for  politics  alone,  nor  for  busi 
ness  alone.  The  Bohemian  Club  was  founded,  I  believe,  by 
Bret  Harte,  and  is  composed  of  lawyers,  artists,  poets,  mu 
sicians,  men  of  genius,  who  in  the  sunshine  and  exuberant 
fertility  of  California,  were  brighter,  quicker,  and  less  bit- 


SAN   FRANCISCO  6l 

terly  in  earnest  than  their  severe  fellow-countrymen  of  the 
Eastern  States.  It  was  the  American  temperament,  but 
with  a  difference.  Dollars,  perhaps,  are  easily  come  by  in 
that  happy  country,  and  men  think  less  of  them,  and  more 
of  human  life,  and  how  it  can  best  be  spent  and  enjoyed. 
If  Horace  were  brought  to  life  again  in  the  New  World, 
he  would  look  for  a  farm  in  California  and  be  a  leading 
Bohemian.  The  pictures  in  the  drawing-room,  painted  by 
one  or  other  of  themselves,  had  all  something  new  and  orig 
inal  about  them,  reminding  one  of  Harte's  writings.  In 
the  summer  weather  the  club  takes  to  tents,  migrates  to  the 
forest,  and  holds  high-jinks  in  Dionysic  fashion.  There  was 
a  clever  sketch  of  one  of  these  festivals  in  the  abandonment 
of  intellectual  riot.  It  is  likely  enough  that  some  original 
school  of  American  art  may  start  up  in  California.  Their 
presiding  genius  at  the  club  is  Pallas  Athene  in  the  shape 
of  an  owl ;  but,  for  some  reason  which  they  could  not,  or 
would  not  explain  to  me,  she  has  one  eye  shut. 

The  city  generally  is  like  other  American  cities.  It  has 
grown  like  a  mushroom,  and  there  has  been  no  leisure  to 
build  anything  durable  or  beautiful.  A  few  years  ago  the 
houses  were  mainly  of  wood.  The  footways  in  the  streets 
are  laid  with  boards  still,  but  are  gradually  transforming 
themselves.  The  sense  of  beauty  will  come  by-and-by,  and 
they  do  well  not  to  be  in  a  hurry.  The  millionaires  have 
constructed  palatial  residences  for  themselves,  on  the  high 
grounds  above  the  smoke.  The  country  towards  the  ocean 
is  taken  charge  of  by  the  municipality.  A  fine  park  has  been 
laid  out,  with  forcing  houses  and  gardens  and  carriage- 
drives.  Near  it  is  a  cemetery,  beside  which  ours  at  Brompton 
would  look  vulgar  and  hideous.  Let  me  say  here,  that  no 
where  in  America  have  I  met  with  vulgarity  in  its  proper 
sense.  Vulgarity  lies  in  manners  unsuited  to  the  condition 
of  life  to  which  you  belong.  A  lady  is  vulgar  when  she  has 


62  SAN   FRANCISCO 

the  manners  of  a  kitchen-maid,  the  kitchen-maid  is  vulgar 
when  she  affects  the  manners  of  a  lady.  Neither  is  vulgar 
so  long  as  she  is  contented  to  be  herself.  In  America  there 
is  no  difference  of  "  station,"  and  therefore  every  one  is 
satisfied  with  his  own  and  has  no  occasion  to  affect  any 
thing.  There  is  a  dislike  of  makeshifts  in  the  Californians. 
Greenbacks  and  shin-plasters  have  no  currency  among  them. 
If  you  go  to  a  bank  at  San  Francisco,  they  give  you,  instead 
of  dirty  paper,  massive  gold  twenty-dollar  pieces,  large  and 
heavy  as  medals,  and  so  handsome  that  one  is  unwilling  to 
break  them.  They  are  never  in  haste,  and  there  is  a  com 
posure  about  them  which  seems  to  say  that  they  belong  to  a 
great  nation  and  that  their  position  is  assured.  I  observed 
at  San  Francisco,  and  I  have  observed  elsewhere  in  America, 
that  they  have  not  the  sporting  taste  so  universal  in  Eng 
land.  They  shoot  their  bears,  they  shoot  their  deer,  in  the 
way  of  business,  as  they  make  their  pigs  into  bacon ;  but  they 
can  see  a  strange  bird  or  a  strange  animal  without  wishing 
immediately  to  kill  it.  Indeed,  killing  for  its  own  sake,  or 
even  killing  for  purpose  of  idle  ornament,  does  not  seem  to 
give  them  particular  pleasure.  The  great  harbour  swarms 
with  seals;  you  see  them  lifting  their  black  faces  to  stare  at 
the  passing  steamers,  as  if  they  knew  they  were  in  no  dan 
ger  of  being  molested.  There  is  a  rock  in  the  ocean  close 
to  the  shore,  seven  miles  from  the  city.  The  seals  lie  about 
it  in  hundreds,  and  roll  and  bark  and  take  life  pleasantly 
as  the  crowds  who  gather  on  holidays  to  look  at  them.  No 
one  ever  shoots  at  these  harmless  creatures.  Men  and  seals 
can  live  at  peace  side  by  side  in  California.  I  doubt  if  as 
much  could  be  said  of  any  British  possession  in  the  world. 
Perhaps  killing  is  an  aristocratic  instinct,  which  the  rest 
imitate,  and  democracy  may  by-and-by  make  a  difference. 

In   short,    California    is   a   pleasant    country,    with    good 
people  in  it.     If  one  had  to  live  one's  life  over  again,  one 


SAN   FRANCISCO  63 

might  do  worse  than  make  one's  home  there.  For  a  poor 
man  it  is  better  than  even  Victoria  and  New  South  Wales, 
for  not  the  necessaries  of  life  only  are  cheap  there,  but  the 
best  of  its  luxuries.  The  grapes  are  like  the  clusters  of 
Eschal.  The  wine,  already  palatable,  is  on  the  way  to 
becoming  admirable  and  as  accessible  to  a  light  purse  as  it 
used  to  be  in  Spain.  I  ate  there  the  only  really  good 
oranges  which  I  have  tasted  for  many  years — good  as  those 
which  we  used  to  get  before  the  orange-growers  went  in  for 
average  sorts  and  heavy  bearers,  and  the  greatest  happiness 
of  the  greatest  number. 

When  everything  of  every  sort  that  one  meets  with,  even 
down  to  the  nigger  waiter  at  the  hotel,  is  excellent  in  its 
kind,  one  may  feel  pretty  well  satisfied  that  the  morality, 
etc.,  is  in  good  condition  also.  All  our  worst  vices  now-a- 
days  grow  out  of  humbug. 

This  was  the  impression  which  California  left  on  me 
during  my  brief  passage  through  it.  Had  I  stayed  longer, 
I  should,  of  course,  have  found  much  to  add  of  a  less  pleas 
ant  kind,  and  something  to  correct.  Life  everywhere  is 
like  tapestry-work — the  outside  only  is  meant  to  be  seen, 
the  loose  tags  and  ends  of  thread  are  left  hanging  on  the 
inner  face.  I  describe  it  as  it  looked  to  me,  and  I  was 
sorry  when  the  time  came  for  me  to  be  again  on  the  move. 


THE  CHESAPEAKE   BAY 
FATHER   ANDREW   WHITE 

AT  length,  sailing  from  this,  we  reached  what  they  call 
Point  Comfort,  in  Virginia,  on  the  27th  of  February, 
full  of  fear  lest  the  English  inhabitants,  to  whom  our  plan 
tation  is  very  objectionable,  should  plot  some  evil  against 
us.  Letters,  however,  which  we  brought  from  the  King 
and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  to  the  Governor  of 
these  regions,  served  to  conciliate  their  minds,  and  to  obtain 
those  things  which  were  useful  to  us.  For  the  Governor 
of  Virginia  hoped,  by  this  kindness  to  us,  to  recover  the 
more  easily  from  the  royal  treasury  a  great  amount  of  money 
due  to  him.  They  announced  only  a  vague  rumor,  that  six 
ships  were  approaching,  which  would  reduce  all  things 
under  the  power  of  the  Spanish.  For  this  reason  all  the  in 
habitants  were  under  arms.  The  thing  afterwards  proved 
to  be  in  a  measure  true. 

After  a  kind  entertainment  for  eight  or  nine  days, 
making  sail  on  the  3d  of  March,  and  carried  into  the  Ches 
apeake  Bay,  we  bent  our  course  to  the  north,  that  we 
might  reach  the  Potomac  River.  The  Chesapeake  Bay,  ten 
leagues  broad,  and  four,  five,  six,  and  even  seven  fathoms 
deep,  flows  gently  between  its  shores;  it  abounds  in  fish 
when  the  season  of  the  year  is  favourable.  A  more  beautiful 
body  of  water  you  can  scarcely  find.  It  is  inferior,  how 
ever,  to  the  Potomac,  to  which  we  gave  the  name  of  St. 
Gregory. 

Having  now  arrived  at  the  wished-for  country,  we  ap 
pointed  names  as  occasion  served.  And,  indeed,  the  point 

64 


THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY  65 

which  is  at  the  south  we  consecrated  under  the  title  of  St. 
Gregory;  designating  the  northern  point,  we  consecrated  it 
to  St.  Michael,  in  honour  of  all  the  angels.  A  larger  or 
more  beautiful  river  I  have  never  seen.  The  Thames,  com 
pared  with  it,  can  scarcely  be  considered  a  rivulet.  It  is 
not  rendered  impure  by  marshes,  but  on  each  bank  of  solid 
earth  rise  beautiful  groves  of  trees,  not  choked  up  with  an 
undergrowth  of  brambles  and  bushes,  but  as  if  laid  out  by 
the  hand,  in  a  manner  so  open  that  you  might  freely  drive 
a  four-horse  chariot  in  the  midst  of  the  trees. 

At  the  very  mouth  of  the  river  we  beheld  the  natives 
armed.  That  night  fires  were  kindled  through  the  whole 
region,  and  since  so  large  a  ship  had  never  been  seen 
by  them,  messengers  were  sent  everywhere  to  announce 
"  that  a  canoe  as  large  as  an  island  had  brought  as  many 
men  as  there  was  trees  in  the  woods."  We  proceeded, 
however,  to  the  Heron  islands,  so-called  from  the  immense 
flock  of  birds  of  this  kind. 

The  first  which  presented  itself  we  called  by  the  name 
of  St.  Clement's,  the  second  St.  Catherine's,  the  third  St. 
Cecilia's.  We  landed  first  at  St.  Clement's,  to  which  access 
is  difficult,  except  by  fording,  because  of  the  shelving  nature 
of  the  shore.  Here  the  young  women,  who  had  landed  for 
the  purpose  of  washing,  were  nearly  drowned  by  the  upset 
ting  of  the  boat — a  great  portion  of  my  linen  being  lost — 
no  trifling  misfortune  in  these  parts. 

This  island  abounds  in  cedar,  sassafras,  and  the  herbs 
and  flowers  for  making  salads  of  every  kind,  with  the  nut 
of  a  wild  tree  which  bears  a  very  hard  nut,  in  a  thick  shell, 
with  a  kernel  very  small,  but  remarkably  pleasant.  How 
ever,  since  it  was  only  four  hundred  acres  in  extent,  it  did 
not  appear  to  be  a  sufficiently  large  location  for  a  new 
settlement.  Nevertheless,  a  place  was  sought  for  building 
a  fort  to  prohibit  foreigners  from  the  trade  of  the  river,  and 


66  THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY 

to  protect  our  boundaries,  for  that  is  the  narrowest  crossing 
of  the  river. 

On  the  day  of  the  Annunciation  of  the  Holy  Virgin  Mary, 
on  the  25th  of  March,  in  the  year  1634,  we  offered  on  this 
island  for  the  first  time,  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass;  in  this 
region  of  the  world  it  had  never  been  celebrated  before. 
Sacrifice  being  ended,  having  taken  upon  our  shoulders  the 
great  cross  which  we  had  hewn  from  a  tree,  and  going  in 
procession  to  the  place  that  had  been  designated,  the  Gov 
ernor,  commissioners,  and  other  Catholics  participating  in 
the  ceremony,  we  erected  it  as  a  trophy  to  Christ  the  Sav 
iour,  while  the  litany  of  the  holy  cross  was  chanted  humbly 
on  the  bended  knees,  with  great  emotion  of  soul. 

But  when  the  Governor  had  understood  that  many 
sachems  are  subject  to  the  chieftain  of  Piscataway,  he  re 
solved  to  visit  him,  that  the  cause  of  our  coming  being 
explained,  and  his  good  will  being  conciliated,  a  more  easy 
access  might  be  gained  to  the  minds  of  the  others.  There 
fore,  having  added  another  pinnace  to  ours  which  he  had 
bought  in  Virginia,  and  having  left  the  ship  at  anchor  at 
St.  Clement's,  retracing  his  course,  he  landed  at  the  south 
side  of  the  river.  And  when  he  had  found  out  that  the 
savages  had  fled  into  the  interior,  he  proceeded  to  a  village 
which  is  also  called  Potomac,  a  name  derived  from  the 
river.  Here  the  tutor  (guardian)  of  the  King,  who  is  a 
youth,  is  Archihu,  his  uncle,  and  holds  the  government  of 
the  kingdom — a  grave  man  and  prudent. 

To  Father  John  Altham,  who  had  come  as  the  companion 
of  the  Governor  (but  he  left  me  with  the  baggage),  he 
willingly  gave  ear  while  explaining,  through  an  interpreter, 
certain  things  concerning  the  errors  of  the  heathens,  now 
and  then  acknowledging  his  own;  and  when  informed  that 
we  had  not  come  thither  for  the  purpose  of  war,  but  for 
the  sake  of  benevolence,  that  we  might  imbue  a  rude  race 


THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY  67 

with  the  precepts  of  civilization,  and  open  up  a  way  to 
heaven,  as  well  as  to  impart  to  them  the  advantages  of  re 
mote  regions,  he  signified  that  we  had  come  acceptably.  The 
interpreter  was  one  of  the  Protestants  of  Virginia.  There 
fore,  when  the  father  could  not  discuss  matters  further  for 
want  of  time,  he  promised  that  he  would  return  before  long. 
"  This  is  agreeable  to  my  mind,"  said  Archihu ;  "  we  will 
use  one  table;  my  attendants  shall  go  hunt  for  you,  and 
all  things  shall  be  common  with  us." 

From  this  we  went  to  Piscataway,  where  all  flew  to 
arms.  About  five  hundred  men,  equipped  with  bows,  stood 
on  shore  with  their  chieftain.  Signs  of  peace  being  given 
them,  the  chief,  laying  aside  his  apprehensions,  came  on 
board  the  pinnace,  and  having  understood  the  intentions 
of  our  minds  to  be  benevolent,  he  gave  us  permission  to  set 
tle  in  whatever  part  of  his  empire  we  might  wish. 

In  the  meantime,  while  the  Governor  was  on  his  visit  to 
the  chieftain,  the  savages  at  St.  Clement's,  having  grown 
more  bold,  mingled  familiarly  with  our  guards,  for  we  kept 
guard  day  and  night,  both  that  we  might  protect  our  wood 
cutters  as  well  as  the  brigantine  which,  with  boards  and 
beams  we  were  constructing  as  a  refuge  from  sudden  attacks. 
It  was  amusing  to  hear  them  admiring  everything.  In  the 
first  place,  where  in  all  the  earth  did  so  large  a  tree  grow, 
from  which  so  immense  a  mass  of  a  ship  could  be  hewn? 
for  they  conceived  it  cut  from  the  single  trunk  of  a  tree, 
in  the  manner  of  a  canoe.  Our  cannon  struck  them  all 
with  consternation,  as  they  were  much  louder  than  their 
twanging  bows,  and  loud  as  thunder. 

The  Governor  had  taken  as  companion  on  his  visit  to 
the  chieftain,  Captain  Henry  Fleet,  a  resident  of  Virginia, 
a  man  very  much  beloved  by  the  savages,  and  acquainted 
with  their  language  and  settlements.  At  the  first  he  was 
very  friendly  to  us;  afterwards,  seduced  by  the  evil  counsels 


68  THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY 

of  a  certain  Clafborne,  who  entertained  the  most  hostile 
disposition,  he  stirred  up  the  minds  of  the  natives  against  us 
with  all  the  art  of  which  he  was  master.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  while  he  remained  as  a  friend  among  us,  he  pointed 
out  to  the  Governor  a  place  for  settlement,  such  that  Europe 
cannot  show  a  better  for  agreeableness  of  situation. 

From  St.  Clement's,  having  proceeded  about  nine  leagues 
towards  the  north,  we  entered  the  mouth  of  a  river,  to 
which  we  gave  the  name  of  St.  George.  This  river,  in  a 
course  from  south  to  north,  runs  about  twenty  miles  before 
it  is  freed  from  its  salt  taste — not  unlike  the  Thames.  Two 
bays  appeared  at  its  mouth,  capable  of  containing  three  hun 
dred  ships  of  the  largest  class.  One  of  the  bays  we  consecrated 
to  St.  George;  the  other  bay,  more  inland,  to  the  Blessed  Vir 
gin  Mary.  The  left  bank  of  the  river  was  the  residence  of 
King  Yoacomico.  We  landed  on  the  right,  and  having 
advanced  about  a  thousand  paces  from  the  shore,  we  gave 
the  name  of  St.  Mary's  to  the  intended  city;  that  we  might 
avoid  all  appearance  of  injury  and  hostility,  having  paid  in 
exchange  axes,  hatchets,  hoes,  and  some  yards  of  cloth,  we 
bought  from  the  King  thirty  miles  of  his  territory,  which 
part  now  goes  by  the  name  of  Augusta  Carolina. 

The  Susquehannoes,  a  tribe  accustomed  to  wars,  and  par 
ticularly  troublesome  to  King  Yoacomico,  in  frequent  incur 
sions  devastate  all  his  land,  and  compel  the  inhabitants, 
through  fear  of  danger,  to  seek  other  habitations.  This  is 
the  reason  why  so  readily  we  obtained  a  part  of  his  king 
dom.  God,  by  these  miracles,  opened  a  way  for  his  law 
and  for  eternal  life.  Some  emigrate,  and  others  are  daily 
relinquishing  to  us  their  houses,  lands,  and  fallowfields. 
Truly  this  is  like  a  miracle,  that  savage  men,  a  few  days 
before  arrayed  in  arms  against  us,  so  readily  trust  them 
selves  like  lambs  to  us,  and  surrender  themselves  and  their 
property  to  us.  The  finger  of  God  is  in  this;  and  some 


THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY  69 

great  good  God  designs  to  this  people.  Some  few  have 
granted  to  them  the  privilege  of  remaining  with  us  till  the 
next  year.  But  then  the  ground  is  to  be  given  up  to  us, 
unencumbered. 

The  natives  are  of  tall  and  comely  stature,  of  a  skin  by 
nature  somewhat  tawny,  which  they  make  more  hideous 
by  daubing,  for  the  most  part,  with  red  paint  mixed  with 
oil,  to  keep  away  the  mosquitoes;  in  this,  intent  more  on 
their  comfort  than  their  beauty.  They  smear  their  faces 
also  with  other  colours;  from  the  nose  upwards,  sea-green, 
downwards,  reddish,  or  the  contrary,  in  a  manner  truly 
disgusting  and  terrific.  And  since  they  are  without  beard 
almost  to  the  end  of  life,  they  make  the  representation  of 
beard  with  paint,  a  line  of  various  colours  being  drawn  from 
the  tip  of  the  lips  to  the  ears.  They  encourage  the  growth 
of  the  hair,  which  is  generally  black,  and  bind  it  with  a  fillet 
when  brought  round  in  a  fashionable  style  to  the  left  ear, 
something  which  is  held  in  estimation  by  them,  being  added 
by  way  of  ornament.  Some  bear  upon  their  forehead  the 
representation  of  a  fish  in  copper.  They  encircle  their 
necks  with  glass  beads  strung  upon  a  thread,  after  the  man 
ner  of  chains.  These  beads,  however,  begin  to  be  more 
common  with  them,  and  less  useful  for  traffic. 

Ignorance  of  their  language  renders  it  still  doubtful  for 
me  to  state  what  views  they  entertain  concerning  religion ; 
but  we  trust  less  to  Protestant  interpreters.  These  few 
things  we  have  learned  at  different  times.  They  recognize 
one  God  of  heaven,  whom  they  call  "  Our  God  ";  never 
theless,  they  pay  him  no  external  worship,  but  by  every 
means  in  their  power,  endeavour  to  appease  a  certain  evil 
spirit  which  they  call  Okee,  that  he  may  not  hurt  them. 
They  worship  corn  and  fire,  as  I  am  informed,  as  Gods 
wonderfully  beneficent  to  the  human  race. 

We  have  been  here  only  one  month,  and  so  other  things 


70  THE    CHESAPEAKE   BAY 

must  be  reserved  for  the  next  sail.  This  I  can  say,  that  the 
soil  appears  particularly  fertile,  and  strawberries,  vines, 
sassafras,  hickory  nuts,  and  walnuts,  we  tread  upon  every 
where,  in  the  thickest  woods.  The  soil  is  dark  and  soft,  a 
foot  in  thickness,  and  rests  upon  a  rich  and  red  clay. 
Everywhere  there  are  very  high  trees,  except  where  the 
ground  is  tilled  by  a  scanty  population.  An  abundance  of 
springs  afford  water.  No  animals  are  seen  except  deer, 
the  beaver,  and  squirrels,  which  are  as  large  as  the  hares 
of  Europe.  There  is  an  infinite  number  of  birds  of  various 
colours,  as  eagles,  herons,  swans,  geese,  and  partridges. 
From  which  you  may  infer  that  there  is  not  wanting  to 
the  region  whatever  may  serve  for  commerce  or  pleasure. 


MEXICO 

HERNANDO   CORTES 

BEFORE  I  begin  to  describe  this  great  city,  it  may  be  well 
for  the  better  understanding  of  the  subject  to  say  some 
thing  of  the  configuration  of  Mexico,  in  which  it  is  situated, 
it  being  the  principal  seat  of  Montezuma's  power.  This 
province  is  in  the  form  of  a  circle,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by 
lofty  and  rugged  mountains;  its  level  surface  comprises  an 
area  of  about  seventy  leagues  in  circumference,  including  two 
lakes,  that  overspread  nearly  the  whole-  valley,  being  navi 
gated  by  boats  more  than  fifty  leagues  round.  One  of  these 
lakes  contains  fresh,  and  the  other,  which  is  the  larger  of 
the  two,  salt  water.  On  one  side  of  the  lakes,  in  the  middle 
of  the  valley,  a  range  of  highlands  divides  them  from  one 
another,  with  the  exception  of  a  narrow  strait  which  lies 
between  the  highlands  and  the  lofty  sierras.  This  strait 
is  a  bow-shot  wide,  and  connects  the  two  lakes;  and  by 
this  means  a  trade  is  carried  on  between  the  cities  and  other 
settlements  on  the  lakes  in  canoes  without  the  necessity 
of  travelling  by  land.  As  the  salt  lake  rises  and  falls 
with  its  tides  like  the  sea,  during  the  time  of  high  water 
it  pours  into  the  other  lake  with  the  rapidity  of  a  power 
ful  stream ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  tide  has  ebbed, 
the  water  runs  from  the  fresh  into  the  salt  lake. 

This  great  city  of  Temixtitan  (Mexico)  is  situated  on 
this  salt  lake,  and  from  the  mainland  to  the  denser  parts 
of  it,  by  whichever  route  one  chooses  to  enter,  the  distance 
is  two  leagues.  There  are  four  avenues  or  entrances  to 
the  city,  all  of  which  are  formed  by  artificial  causeways, 

7i 


72  MEXICO 

two  spears'  length  in  width.  The  city  is  as  large  as  Seville 
or  Cordova;  its  streets,  I  speak  of  the  principal  ones,  are 
very  wide  and  straight;  some  of  these,  and  all  the  inferior 
ones,  are  half  land  and  half  water,  and  are  navigated  by 
canoes.  All  the  streets  at  intervals  have  openings,  through 
which  the  water  flows,  crossing  from  one  street  to  another; 
and  at  these  openings,  some  of  which  are  very  wide,  there 
are  also  very  wide  bridges,  composed  of  large  pieces  of  tim 
ber  of  great  strength  and  well  put  together;  on  many  of 
these  bridges  ten  horses  can  go  abreast. 

This  city  has  many  public  squares,  in  which  are  situ 
ated  the  markets  and  other  places  for  buying  and  selling. 
There  is  one  square  twice  as  large  as  that  of  the  city  of 
Salamanca,  surrounded  by  porticoes,  where  are  daily  assem 
bled  more  than  sixty  thousand  souls,  engaged  in  buying  and 
selling;  and  where  are  found  all  kinds  of  merchandise  that 
the  world  affords,  embracing  the  necessaries  of  life,  as  for 
instance,  articles  of  food,  as  well  as  jewels  of  gold  and  sil 
ver,  lead,  brass,  copper,  tin,  precious  stones,  bones,  shells, 
snails,  and  feathers.  There  are  also  exposed  for  sale  wrought 
and  unwrought  stone,  bricks  burnt  and  unburnt,  timber  hewn 
and  unhewn,  of  different  sorts.  This  is  a  street  for  game, 
where  every  variety  of  birds  found  in  the  country  are  sold, 
as  fowls,  partridges,  quails,  wild  ducks,  fly-catchers,  wid 
geons,  turtle-doves,  pidgeons,  reedbirds,  parrots,  sparrows, 
eagles,  hawks,  owls,  and  kestrels;  they  sell  likewise  the 
skins  of  some  birds  of  prey,  with  their  feathers,  head,  beak, 
and  claws.  There  are  also  sold  rabbits,  hares,  deer,  and 
little  dogs,  which  are  raised  for  eating  and  castrated.  There 
is  also  an  herb  street,  where  may  be  obtained  all  sorts  of 
roots  and  medicinal  herbs  that  the  country  affords.  There 
are  apothecaries'  shops,  where  prepared  medicines,  liquids, 
ointments,  and  plasters  are  sold;  barbers'  shops,  where  they 
wash  and  shave  the  head;  and  restaurateurs,  that  furnish 


MEXICO  73 

food  and  drink  at  a  certain  price.  There  is  also  a  class 
of  men  like  those  called  in  Castile  porters,  for  carrying 
burthens.  Wood  and  coal  are  seen  in  abundance,  and  bra- 
siers  of  earthenware  for  burning  coals ;  mats  of  various  kinds 
for  beds,  others  of  a  lighter  sort  for  seats,  and  for  halls  and 
bedrooms.  There  are  all  kinds  of  green  vegetables,  espe 
cially  onions,  leeks,  garlic,  watercresses,  nasturtium,  borage, 
sorel,  artichokes,  and  golden  thistle;  fruits  also  of  numerous 
descriptions,  amongst  which  are  cherries  and  plums,  similar 
to  those  in  Spain;  honey  and  wax  from  bees,  and  from  the 
stalks  of  maize,  which  are  as  sweet  as  the  sugar-cane;  honey 
is  also  extracted  from  the  plant  called  maguey,1  which  is 
superior  to  sweet  or  new  wine;  from  the  same  plant  they 
extract  sugar  and  wine,  which  they  also  sell.  Different 
kinds  of  cotton  thread  of  all  colours  in  skeins  are  exposed 
for  sale  in  one  quarter  of  the  market,  which  has  the  appear 
ance  of  the  silk-market  at  Granada,  although  the  former  is 
supplied  more  abundantly.  Painters'  colours,  as  numerous 
as  can  be  found  in  Spain,  and  as  fine  shades;  deerskins, 
dressed  and  undressed,  dyed  different  colours;  earthenware 
of  a  large  size  and  excellent  quality;  large  and  small  jars, 
jugs,  pots,  bricks,  and  an  endless  variety  of  vessels,  all  made 
of  fine  clay,  and  all  or  most  of  them  glazed  or  painted; 
maize,  or  Indian  corn,  in  the  grain  and  in  the  form  of  bread, 
preferred  in  the  grain  for  its  flavour  to  that  of  the  other 
islands  and  terra-firma;  pates  of  birds  and  fish;  great  quan 
tities  of  fish,  fresh,  salt,  cooked  and  uncooked;  the  eggs  of 
hens,  geese,  and  of  all  the  other  birds  I  have  mentioned,  in 
great  abundance,  and  cakes  made  of  eggs ;  finally,  everything 
that  can  be  found  throughout  the  whole  country  is  sold  in 
the  markets,  comprising  articles  so  numerous  that  to  avoid 
prolixity,  and  because  their  names  are  not  retained  in  my 
memory,  or  are  unknown  to  me,  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
enumerate  them.  Every  kind  of  merchandise  is  sold  in  a 

plant  known  as  the  "Century  Plant." 


74  MEXICO 

particular  street  or  quarter  assigned  to  it  exclusively,  and 
thus  the  best  order  is  preserved. 

They  sell  everything  by  number  or  measure;  at  least 
so  far  we  have  not  observed  them  to  sell  anything  by  weight. 
There  is  a  building  in  the  great  square  that  is  used  as  an 
audience  house,  where  ten  or  twelve  persons,  who  are  magis 
trates,  sit  and  decide  all  controversies  that  arise  in  the 
market,  and  order  delinquents  to  be  punished.  In  the  same 
square  there  are  other  persons  who  go  constantly  about 
among  the  people  observing  what  is  sold,  and  the  measures 
used  in  selling;  and  they  have  been  seen  to  break  meas 
ures  that  were  not  true. 

This  great  city  contains  a  large  number  of  temples,  or 
houses  for  their  idols,  very  handsome  edifices,  which  are 
situated  in  the  different  districts  and  the  suburbs;  in  the 
principal  ones  religious  persons  of  each  particular  sect  are 
constantly  residing,  for  whose  use  beside  the  houses  con 
taining  the  idols  there  are  other  convenient  habitations. 

Among  these  temples  there  is  one  which  far  surpasses  all 
the  rest,  whose  grandeur  of  architectural  details  no  human 
tongue  is  able  to  describe;  for  within  its  precincts,  sur 
rounded  by  a  lofty  wall,  there  is  room  enough  for  a  town 
of  five  hundred  families.  Around  the  interior  of  this  en 
closure  there  are  handsome  edifices,  containing  large  halls 
and  corridors,  in  which  the  religious  persons  attached  to 
the  temple  reside.  There  are  full  forty  towers,  which  are 
lofty  and  well  built,  the  largest  of  which  has  fifty  steps 
leading  to  its  main  body,  and  is  higher  than  the  tower  of 
the  principal  church  at  Seville.  The  stone  and  wood  of 
which  they  are  constructed  are  so  well  wrought  in  every 
part,  that  nothing  could  be  better  done,  for  the  interior  of 
the  chapels  containing  the  idols  consists  of  curious  imagery, 
wrought  in  stone,  with  plaster  ceilings,  and  wood-work 
carved  in  relief,  and  painted  with  figures  of  monsters  and 


MEXICO  75 

other  objects.  All  these  towers  are  the  burial  places  of  the 
nobles,  and  every  chapel  in  them  is  dedicated  to  a  particu 
lar  idol,  to  which  they  pay  their  devotions. 

There  are  three  halls  in  this  grand  temple,  which'  con 
tain  the  principal  idols;  these  are  of  wonderful  extent  and 
height,  and  admirable  workmanship,  adorned  with  figures 
sculptured  in  stone  and  wood;  leading  from  the  halls  and 
chapels  with  very  small  doors,  to  which  the  light  is  not  ad 
mitted,  nor  are  any  persons  except  the  priests,  and  not  all 
of  them.  In  these  chapels  are  the  images  or  idols,  although, 
as  I  have  before  said,  many  of  them  are  also  found  on  the 
outside ;  the  principal  ones,  in  which  the  people  have  greatest 
faith  and  confidence,  I  precipitated  from  their  pedestals, 
and  cast  them  down  the  steps  of  the  temple,  purifying  the 
chapels  in  which  they  had  stood,  as  they  were  all  polluted 
with  human  blood,  shed  in  the  sacrifices.  In  the  place  of 
these  I  put  images  of  Our  Lady  and  the  Saints,  which  ex 
cited  not  a  little  feeling  in  Montezuma  and  the  inhabitants, 
who  at  first  remonstrated,  declaring  that  if  my  proceedings 
were  known  throughout  the  country,  the  people  would  rise 
against  me;  for  they  believed  that  their  idols  bestowed  on 
them  all  temporal  good,  and  if  they  permitted  them  to  be 
ill-treated,  they  would  be  angry  and  withhold  their  gifts, 
and  by  this  means  the  people  would  be  deprived  of  the  fruits 
of  the  earth  and  perish  with  famine. 

This  noble  city  contains  many  fine  and  magnificent 
houses;  which  may  be  accounted  for  from  the  fact  that  all 
the  nobility  of  the  country,  who  are  vassals  of  Montezuma, 
have  houses  in  the  city,  in  which  they  reside  a  certain  part 
of  the  year;  and  besides,  there  are  numerous  wealthy  citi 
zens  who  also  possess  fine  houses.  All  these  persons,  in 
addition  to  the  large  and  spacious  apartments  for  ordinary 
purposes,  have  others,  both  upper  and  lower,  that  contain 
conservatories  of  flowers.  Along  one  of  the  causeways  that 


76  MEXICO 

lead  into  the  city  are  laid  two  pipes,  constructed  of  masonry, 
each  of  which  is  two  paces  in  width  and  about  five  feet 
in  height.  An  abundant  supply  of  excellent  water,  forming 
a  volume  equal  in  bulk  to  the  human  body,  is  conveyed  by 
one  of  these  pipes,  and  distributed  about  the  city,  where  it 
is  used  by  the  inhabitants  for  drinking  and  other  purposes. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  city  pay  a  greater  regard  to  style 
in  their  mode  of  living,  and  are  more  attentive  to  elegance 
of  dress  and  politeness  of  manners,  than  those  of  the  other 
provinces  and  cities;  since,  as  the  Cacique  Montezuma  has 
his  residence  in  the  capital,  and  all  the  nobility,  his  vassals, 
are  in  the  constant  habit  of  meeting  there,  a  general  cour 
tesy  of  demeanour  necessarily  prevails.  But  not  to  be 
prolix  in  describing  what  relates  to  the  affairs  of  this  great 
city,  although  it  is  with  difficulty  I  refrain  from  proceed 
ing,  I  will  say  no  more  than  that  the  manners  of  the  people, 
as  shown  in  their  intercourse  with  one  another,  are  marked 
by  as  great  an  attention  to  the  proprieties  of  life  as  in 
Spain,  and  good  order  is  equally  well  observed ;  and  consid 
ering  that  they  are  a  barbarous  people,  without  the  knowl 
edge  of  God,  having  no  intercourse  with  civilized  nations, 
these  traits  of  character  are  worthy  of  admiration. 

In  regard  to  the  domestic  appointments  of  Montezuma, 
and  the  wonderful  grandeur  and  state  that  he  maintains, 
there  is  so  much  to  be  told,  that  I  assure  your  highness,  I 
know  not  where  to  begin  my  relation,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
finish  any  part  of  it.  For,  as  I  have  already  stated,  what 
can  be  more  wonderful,  than  that  a  barbarous  monarch,  as 
he  is,  should  have  every  object  found  in  his  dominion  imi 
tated  in  gold,  silver,  precious  stones,  and  feathers;  the  gold 
and  silver  being  wrought  so  naturally  as  not  to  be  surpassed 
by  any  smith  in  the  world;  the  stone  work  executed  with 
such  perfection  that  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  what  instru 
ments  could  have  been  used;  and  the  feather  work  superior 


MEXICO  77 

to  the  finest  productions  in  wax  or  embroidery.  The  ex 
tent  of  Montezuma's  dominions  has  not  been  ascertained, 
since  to  whatever  point  he  despatches  his  messengers,  even 
two  hundred  leagues  from  his  capital,  his  commands  were 
obeyed,  although  some  of  his  provinces  were  in  the  midst  of 
countries  with  which  he  was  at  war.  But  as  nearly  as  I 
have  been  able  to  learn,  his  territories  are  equal  in  extent  to 
Spain  itself,  for  he  has  sent  messengers  to  the  inhabitants 
of  a  city  called  Cumatan  (requiring  them  to  become  subjects 
of  your  Majesty),  which  is  sixty  leagues  beyond  that  part 
of  Putunchan  watered  by  the  river  Grijalva,  and  two  hun 
dred  and  thirty  leagues  distant  from  the  great  city;  and  I 
sent  some  of  our  people  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
leagues  in  the  same  direction.  All  the  principal  chiefs  of 
these  provinces,  especially  those  in  the  vicinity  of  the  capital, 
reside,  as  I  have  already  stated,  the  greater  part  of  the  year 
in  that  great  city,  and  all  or  most  of  them  have  their  oldest 
sons  in  the  service  of  Montezuma.  There  are  fortified 
places  in  all  the  provinces,  garrisoned  with  his  own  men, 
where  are  also  stationed  his  governors  and  collectors  of  the 
rents  and  tribute,  rendered  him  by  every  province;  and  an 
account  is  kept  of  what  each  is  obliged  to  pay,  as  they  have 
characters  and  figures  made  on  paper  that  are  used  for  this 
purpose.  Each  province  renders  a  tribute  of  its  own  pecu 
liar  productions,  so  that  the  sovereign  receives  a  great  variety 
of  articles  from  different  quarters.  No  prince  was  ever 
more  feared  by  his  subjects,  both  in  his  presence  and  ab 
sence.  He  possessed  out  of  the  city  as  well  as  within, 
numerous  villas,  each  of  which  had  its  peculiar  sources  of 
amusements,  and  all  were  constructed  in  the  best  possible 
manner  for  the  use  of  a  great  prince  and  lord.  Within  the 
city  his  palaces  were  so  wonderful  that  it  is  hardly  possible 
to  describe  their  beauty  and  extent;  I  can  only  say  that  in 
Spain  there  is  nothing  equal  to  them. 


ST.   AUGUSTINE 
GEORGE    R.   FAIRBANKS 

A  MONG  the  sturdy  adventurers  of  the  Sixteenth  Cen- 
-**>tury  who  sought  both  fame  and  fortune  in  the  path  of 
discovery,  was  Ponce  de  Leon,  a  companion  of  Columbus 
on  his  second  voyage,  a  veteran  and  bold  mariner,  who, 
after  a  long  and  adventurous  life,  feeling  the  infirmities  of 
age  and  the  shadows  of  the  decline  of  life  hanging  over 
him,  willingly  credited  the  tale  that  in  this,  the  beautiful 
land  of  his  imagination,  there  existed  a  fountain  whose 
waters  could  restore  youth  to  palsied  age,  and  beauty  to 
efface  the  marks  of  time. 

The  story  ran  that  far  to  the  north  there  existed  a  land 
abounding  in  gold  and  in  all  manner  of  desirable  things, 
but,  above  all,  possessing  a  river  and  springs  of  so  remark 
able  a  virtue  that  their  waters  would  confer  immortal  youth 
on  whoever  bathed  in  them;  that  upon  a  time,  a  con 
siderable  expedition  of  the  Indians  of  Cuba  had  departed 
northward,  in  search  of  this  beautiful  country  and  these 
waters  of  immortality,  who  had  never  returned,  and  who, 
it  was  supposed,  were  in  a  renovated  state,  still  enjoying  the 
felicities  of  the  happy  land. 

Furthermore,  Peter  Martyr  affirms,  in  his  second  decade, 
addressed  to  the  Pope,  "  that  among  the  islands  on  the 
north  side  of  Hispaniola,  there  is  one  about  three  hundred 
and  twenty-five  leagues  distant,  as  they  say  which  have 
searched  the  same,  in  the  which  is  a  continual  spring  of 
running  water,  of  such  marvellous  virtue  that  the  water 
thereof  being  drunk,  perhaps  with  some  diet,  maketh  old 

78 


ST.   AUGUSTINE  79 

men  young  again.  And  here  I  must  make  protestation  to 
your  Holiness  not  to  think  this  to  be  said  lightly,  or  rashly; 
for  they  have  so  spread  this  rumour  for  a  truth  throughout 
all  the  Court,  that  not  only  all  the  people,  but  also  many 
of  them  whom  wisdom  or  fortune  hath  divided  from  the 
common  sort,  think  it  to  be  true."  Thoroughly  believing 
in  the  verity  of  this  pleasant  account,  this  gallant  cavalier 
fitted  out  an  expedition  from  Porto  Rico,  and  in  the  prog 
ress  of  his  search  came  upon  the  coast  of  Florida,  on  Easter 
Monday,  1512,  supposing  then,  and  for  a  long  period  after 
wards,  that  it  was  an  island.  Partly  in  consequence  of  the 
bright  spring  verdure  and  flowery  plains  that  met  his  eye, 
and  the  magnificence  of  the  magnolia,  the  bay,  and  the 
laurel,  and  partly  in  honour  of  the  day,  Pascua  Florida,  or 
Palm  Sunday,  and  reminded,  probably,  of  its  appropriate 
ness  by  the  profusion  of  the  cabbage  palms  near  the  point 
of  his  landing,  he  gave  to  the  country  the  name  of  Florida. 

On  the  third  of  April,  1612,  he  landed  a  few  miles  north 
of  St.  Augustine,  and  took  possession  of  the  country  for  the 
Spanish  Crown.  He  found  the  natives  fierce  and  implaca 
ble;  and  after  exploring  the  country  for  some  distance  around, 
and  trying  the  virtue  of  all  the  streams,  and  growing  neither 
younger  nor  handsomer,  he  left  the  country  without  making  a 
permanent  settlement. 

The  settlement  of  Florida  had  its  origin  in  the  religious 
troubles  experienced  by  the  Huguenots  under  Charles  IX. 
in  France. 

Their  distinguished  leader,  Admiral  Coligny,  as  early  as 
!555>  projected  colonies  in  America,  and  sent  an  expedition 
to  Brazil,  which  proved  unsuccessful.  Having  procured 
permission  from  Charles  IX.  to  found  a  colony  in  Florida, 
a  designation  which  embraced  in  rather  an  indefinite  man 
ner  the  whole  country  from  the  Chesapeake  to  the  Tortugas, 
he  sent  an  expedition  in  1562  from  France,  under  com- 


80  ST.  AUGUSTINE 

mand  of  Jean  Ribault,  composed  of  many  young  men  of 
good  family.  They  first  landed  at  the  St.  John's  River, 
where  they  erected  a  monument,  but  finally  established  a 
settlement  at  Port  Royal,  South  Carolina,  and  erected  a 
fort.  After  some  months,  however,  in  consequence  of  dis 
sensions  among  the  officers  of  the  garrison,  and  difficulties 
with  the  Indians,  this  settlement  was  abandoned. 

In  1564  another  expedition  came  out  under  the  com 
mand  of  Rene  de  Laudonniere,  and  made  their  first  landing 
at  the  River  of  Dolphins,  being  the  present  harbour  of  St. 
Augustine,  and  so  named  by  them  in  consequence  of  the 
great  number  of  dolphins  (porpoises)  seen  by  them  at  its 
mouth.  They  afterwards  coasted  to  the  north,  and  entered 
the  River  St.  John's,  called  by  them  the  River  May. 

Upon  an  examination  of  this  river  Laudonniere  concluded 
to  establish  his  colony  on  its  banks ;  and  proceeding  about  two 
leagues  above  its  mouth,  built  a  fort  upon  a  pleasant  hill 
of  "  mean  height  "  which,  in  honour  of  his  sovereign,  he 
named  Fort  Caroline. 

The  colonists  after  a  few  months  were  reduced  to  great 
distress,  and  were  about  taking  measures  to  abandon  the 
country  a  second  timet  when  Ribault  arrived  with  reinforce 
ments. 

It  is  supposed  that  intelligence  of  these  expeditions  was 
communicated  by  the  enemies  of  Coligny  to  the  court  of 
Spain. 

Jealousy  of  the  aggrandizement  of  the  French  in  the 
New  World,  mortification  for  their  own  unsuccessful  efforts 
in  that  quarter,  and  a  still  stronger  motive  of  hatred  to  the 
faith  of  the  Huguenot,  induced  the  bigoted  Philip  II.  of 
Spain  to  despatch  Pedro  Menendez  de  Aviles,  a  brave,  big 
oted,  and  remorseless  soldier,  to  drive  out  the  French  colony 
and  take  possession  of  the  country  for  himself. 

The   compact   made   between    the   King   and    Menendez 


ST.   AUGUSTINE  8l 

was  that  he  should  furnish  one  galleon  completely  equipped, 
and  provisions  for  a  force  of  six  hundred  men;  that  he 
should  conquer  and  settle  the  country.  He  obligated  him 
self  to  carry  one  hundred  horses,  two  hundred  horned  cat 
tle,  four  hundred  hogs,  four  hundred  sheep  and  some  goats, 
and  five  hundred  slaves  (for  which  he  had  a  permission  free 
of  duties),  the  third  part  of  which  should  be  men,  for  his 
own  service  and  that  of  those  who  went  with  him,  to  aid 
in  cultivating  the  land  and  building.  That  he  should  take 
twelve  priests,  and  four  fathers  of  the  Jesuit  order.  He 
was  to  build  two  or  three  towns  of  one  hundred  families, 
and  in  each  town  should  build  a  fort  according  to  the  nature 
of  the  country.  He  was  to  have  the  title  of  Adelantado  of 
the  country,  as  also  to  be  entitled  to  a  Marquis  and  his 
heirs  after  him,  to  have  a  tract  of  land,  receive  a  salary  of 
2000  ducats,  a  percentage  of  the  royal  duties,  and  have  the 
freedom  of  all  the  other  ports  of  New  Spain. 

His  force  consisted,  at  starting,  of  eleven  sail  of  vessels 
with  two  thousand  and  six  hundred  men;  but,  owing  to 
storms  and  accidents,  not  more  than  one-half  arrived.  He 
came  upon  the  coast  on  the  a8th  of  August,  1565,  shortly 
after  the  arrival  of  the  fleet  of  Ribault.  On  the  yth  day  of 
September,  Menendez  cast  anchor  in  the  River  of  Dolphins, 
the  harbour  of  St.  Augustine.  He  had  previously  discov 
ered  and  given  chase  to  some  vessels  of  Ribault,  off  the 
mouth  of  the  River  May.  The  Indian  village  Selooe  then 
stood  upon  the  site  of  St.  Augustine,  and  the  landing  of 
Menendez  was  upon  the  spot  where  the  city  of  St.  Augus 
tine  now  stands. 

Fray  Francisco  Lopez  de  Mendoza,  the  Chaplain  of  the 
expedition,  thus  chronicles  the  disembarkation  and  atten 
dant  ceremonies: 

"  On  Saturday  the  8th  day  of  September,  the  day  of 
the  nativity  of  our  Lady,  the  General  disembarked,  with 


82  ST.   AUGUSTINE 

numerous  banners  displayed,  trumpets  and  other  martial 
music  resounding,  and  amid  salvos  of  artillery. 

"  Carrying  a  cross,  I  proceeded  at  the  head,  chanting 
the  hymn  Te  Deum  Laudamus.  The  General  marched 
straight  to  the  cross,  together  with  all  those  who  accom 
panied  him;  and,  kneeling,  they  all  kissed  the  cross.  A 
great  number  of  Indians  looked  upon  these  ceremonies,  and 
imitated  whatever  they  saw  done.  Thereupon  the  General 
took  possession  of  the  country  in  the  name  of  his  Majesty. 
All  the  officers  then  took  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  him  as 
their  general  and  as  adelantado  of  the  whole  country." 

The  name  of  St.  Augustine  was  given,  in  the  usual  man 
ner  of  the  early  voyagers,  because  they  had  arrived  upon 
the  coast  on  the  day  dedicated  in  their  calendar  to  that 
eminent  saint  of  the  primitive  church,  revered  alike  by  the 
good  of  all  ages  for  his  learning  and  piety. 

On  the  loth  day  of  July,  in  the  year  1821,  the  standard  of 
Spain,  which  had  been  raised  two  hundred  and  fifty-six  years 
before  over  St.  Augustine,  was  finally  lowered  forever  from 
the  walls  over  which  it  had  so  long  fluttered,  and  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  of  the  youngest  of  nations  rose  where  sooner  or 
later  the  hand  of  destiny  would  assuredly  have  placed  them. 

It  was  intended  that  the  change  of  flags  should  have  taken 
place  on  the  4th  of  July;  owing  to  a  detention  this  was 
frustrated,  but  the  inhabitants  celebrated  the  4th  with  a 
handsome  public  ball  at  the  governor's  house. 

The  Spanish  garrison  and  officers  connected  with  it,  re 
turned  to  Cuba  and  some  of  the  Spanish  families,  but  the 
larger  portion  of  the  inhabitants  remained. 

In  December,  1835,  the  war  with  the  Seminole  Indians 
broke  out;  and  for  some  years  St.  Augustine  was  full  of 
the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  war.  It  was  dangerous  to 
venture  beyond  the  gates;  and  many  sad  scenes  of  Indian 
massacre  took  place  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  city.  Dur- 


ST.   AUGUSTINE  83 

ing  this  period,  great  apparent  prosperity  prevailed;  property 
was  valuable,  rents  were  high;  speculators  projected  one 
city  on  the  north  of  the  town,  and  another  on  the  west;  a 
canal  to  the  St.  Johns,  and  also  a  railroad  to  Picolata;  and 
great  hopes  of  future  prosperity  were  entertained.  With 
the  cessation  of  the  war,  the  importance  of  St.  Augustine 
diminished;  younger  communities  took  the  lead  of  it,  aided 
by  superior  advantages  of  location,  and  greater  enterprise, 
and  St.  Augustine  has  subsided  into  the  pleasant,  quiet, 
dolce  far  nlente  of  to-day,  living  upon  its  old  memories,  con 
tented,  peaceful,  and  agreeable,  and  likely  to  remain  with 
out  much  change  for  the  future. 

Of  the  public  buildings,  it  may  be  remarked  that  the 
extensive  British  barracks  were  destroyed  by  fire  in  1792; 
and  that  the  Franciscan  Convent  was  occupied  as  it  had 
been  before,  as  barracks  for  the  troops  not  in  garrison  in 
the  fort.  The  appearance  of  these  buildings  has  been  much 
changed,  by  the  extensive  repairs  and  alterations  made  by 
the  United  States  government.  It  had  formerly  a  large 
circular  look-out  upon  the  top,  from  which  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  surrounding  country  was  obtained.  Its  walls 
are  probably  the  oldest  foundation  in  the  city. 

The  present  United  States  Court  House,  now  occupied  by 
many  public  offices,  was  the  residence  of  the  Spanish  govern 
ors.  It  has  been  rebuilt  by  the  United  States,  and  its  former 
quaint  and  interesting  appearance  has  been  lost,  in  removing 
its  look-out  tower,  and  balconies,  and  the  handsome  gate 
way,  mentioned  by  De  Brahm,  which  is  said  to  have  been 
a  fine  specimen  of  Doric  architecture. 

Trinity  Episcopal  Church  was  commenced  in  1827,  and 
consecrated  in  1833,  by  Bishop  Bowen,  of  South  Carolina. 
The  Presbyterian  Church  was  built  about  1830,  and  the 
Methodist  chapel  about  1846. 

The  venerable-looking  building  on  the  bay,  at  the  corner 


84  ST.   AUGUSTINE 

of  Green  Lane  and  Bay  Street,  is  considered  the  oldest 
building  in  the  place,  and  has  evidently  been  a  fine  building 
in  its  day.  It  was  the  residence  of  the  attorney-general  in 
English  times. 

The  monument  on  the  public  square  was  erected  in 
1812-13,  upon  the  information  of  the  adoption  of  the 
Spanish  constitution,  as  a  memorial  of  that  event,  in  pursu 
ance  of  a  royal  order  to  that  effect,  directed  to  the  public 
authorities  of  all  the  provincial  towns.  Geronimo  Alvarez 
was  the  Alcalde  under  whose  direction  it  was  erected.  The 
plan  of  it  was  made  by  Sr.  Hernandez,  father  of  the  late 
General  Hernandez.  A  short  time  after  it  was  put  up,  the 
Spanish  constitution  having  had  a  downfall,  orders  were 
issued  by  the  government  that  all  the  monuments  erected  to 
the  constitution  throughout  its  dominions  should  be  demol 
ished.  The  citizens  of  St.  Augustine  were  unwilling  to  see 
their  monument  torn  down ;  and,  with  the  passive  acquiscence 
of  the  governor,  the  marble  tablets  inscribed  PLAZA  DE  LA 
CONSTITUCION  being  removed,  the  monument  itself  was 
allowed  to  stand;  and  it  thus  remains  to  this  day,  the  only 
monument  in  existence  to  commemorate  the  farce  of  the 
constitution  of  1812.  In  1818,  the  tablets  were  restored 
without  objection. 

The  bridge  and  causeway  are  the  work  of  the  government 
of  the  United  States.  The  present  sea-wall  was  built  be 
tween  1835  and  1842,  by  the  United  States,  at  an  expense 
of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

I  cannot  perhaps  better  conclude  these  historic  notices 
than  by  giving  the  impressions  of  the  author  of  Thanatop- 
sis,  one  whose  poetic  fame  will  endure  as  long  as  American 
literature  exists.  Writing  from  St.  Augustine  in  April, 
1843,  he  says: 

"  At  length  we  emerged  upon  a  shrubby  plain,  and 
finally  came  in  sight  of  this  oldest  city  of  the  United  States, 


ST.   AUGUSTINE  85 

seated  among  its  trees  on  a  sandy  swell  of  land,  where  it 
has  stood  for  three  hundred  years.  I  was  struck  with  its 
ancient  and  homely  aspect,  even  at  a  distance,  and  could  not 
help  likening  it  to  pictures  which  I  had  seen  of  Dutch 
towns,  though  it  wanted  a  wind-mill  or  two  to  make  the 
resemblance  perfect.  We  drove  into  a  green  square,  in  the 
midst  of  which  was  a  monument  erected  to  commemorate 
the  Spanish  constitution  of  1812,  and  thence  through  the 
narrow  streets  of  the  city  to  our  hotel. 

"  I  have  called  the  streets  narrow.  In  few  places  are 
they  wide  enough  to  allow  two  carriages  to  pass  abreast. 
I  was  told  that  they  were  not  originally  intended  for  car 
riages;  and  that  in  the  time  when  the  town  belonged  to 
Spain,  many  of  them  were  floored  with  an  artificial  stone, 
composed  of  shells  and  mortar,  which  in  this  climate  takes 
and  keeps  the  hardness  of  rock;  and  that  no  other  vehicle 
than  a  hand-barrow  was  allowed  to  pass  over  them.  In 
some  places  you  see  remnants  of  this  ancient  pavement;  but 
for  the  most  part  it  has  been  ground  into  dust  under  the 
wheels  of  the  carts  and  carriages  introduced  by  the  new 
inhabitants.  The  old  houses,  built  of  a  kind  of  stone  which 
is  seemingly  a  pure  concretion  of  small  shells,  overhang  the 
streets  with  their  wooden  balconies;  and  the  gardens  be 
tween  the  houses  are  fenced  on  the  side  of  the  street  with 
high  walls  of  stone.  Peeping  over  these  walls  you  see 
branches  of  the  pomegranate,  and  of  the  orange  trees  now 
fragrant  with  flowers,  and,  rising  yet  higher,  the  leaning 
boughs  of  the  fig  with  its  broad,  luxuriant  leaves.  Occa 
sionally  you  pass  the  ruins  of  houses — walls  of  stone  with 
arches  and  stair-cases  of  the  same  material,  which  once  be 
longed  to  stately  dwellings.  You  meet  in  the  streets  with 
men  of  swarthy  complexions  and  foreign  physiognomy,  and 
you  hear  them  speaking  to  each  other  in  a  strange  language. 
You  are  told  that  these  are  the  remains  of  those  who  inhab- 


86  ST.   AUGUSTINE 

ited  the  country  under  the  Spanish  dominion,  and  that  the 
dialect  you  have  heard  is  that  of  the  island  of  Minorca. 

"  *  Twelve  years  ago,'  said  an  acquaintance  of  mine, 
'  when  I  first  visited  St.  Augustine,  it  was  a  fine  old  Span 
ish  town.  A  large  proportion  of  the  houses  which  you  now 
see  roofed  like  barns,  were  then  flat-roofed ;  they  were  all  of 
shell  rock,  and  these  modern  wooden  buildings  were  not  then 
erected.  That  old  fort  which  they  are  now  repairing,  to 
fit  it  for  receiving  a  garrison,  was  a  sort  of  ruin,  for  the 
outworks  had  partly  fallen,  and  it  stood  unoccupied  by 
the  military,  a  venerable  monument  of  the  Spanish  domin 
ion.  But  the  orange-groves  were  the  wealth  and  ornament 
of  St.  Augustine,  and  their  produce  maintained  the  inhab 
itants  in  comfort.  Orange-trees  of  the  size  and  height  of 
the  pear-tree,  often  rising  higher  than  the  roofs  of  the 
houses,  embowered  the  town  in  perpetual  verdure.  They 
stood  so  close  in  the  groves  that  they  excluded  the  sun;  and 
the  atmosphere  was  at  all  times  aromatic  with  their  leaves 
and  fruit,  and  in  spring  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  was 
almost  oppressive.' 

"  The  old  fort  of  St.  Mark,  now  called  Fort  Marion, — 
a  foolish  change  of  name — is  a  noble  work,  frowning  over 
the  Matanzas,  which  flows  between  St.  Augustine  and  the 
island  of  Anastasia;  and  it  is  worth  making  a  long  journey 
to  see.  No  record  remains  of  its  original  construction;  but 
it  is  supposed  to  have  been  erected  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  since,  and  the  shell  rock  of  which  it  is  built  is  dark 
with  time.  We  saw  where  it  had  been  struck  with  cannon 
balls,  which,  instead  of  splitting  the  rock,  became  imbedded 
and  clogged  among  the  loosened  fragments  of  shell.  This 
rock  is  therefore  one  of  the  best  materials  for  fortification 
in  the  world.  We  were  taken  into  the  ancient  prisons  of 
the  fort-dungeons,  one  of  which  was  dimly  lighted  by  a 
grated  window,  and  another  entirely  without  light;  and 


ST.   AUGUSTINE  87 

by  the  flame  of  a  torch  we  were  shown  the  half-obliterated 
inscriptions  scrawled  on  the  walls  long  ago  by  prisoners. 
But  in  another  corner  of  the  fort,  we  were  taken  to  look 
at  the  secret  cells,  which  were  discovered  a  few  years  since 
in  consequence  of  the  sinking  of  the  earth  over  a  narrow 
apartment  between  them.  These  cells  are  deep  under 
ground,  vaulted  overhead,  and  without  windows.  In  one 
of  them  a  wooden  machine  was  found,  which  some  supposed 
might  have  been  a  rack,  and  in  the  other  a  quantity  of  human 
bones.  The  doors  of  these  cells  had  been  walled  up  and 
concealed  with  stucco,  before  the  fort  passed  into  the  hands 
of  the  Americans. 

"  You  cannot  be  in  St.  Augustine  a  day  without  hearing 
some  of  its  inhabitants  speak  of  its  agreeable  climate.  Dur 
ing  the  sixteen  days  of  my  residence  here,  the  weather 
has  certainly  been  as  delightful  as  I  could  imagine.  We 
have  the  temperature  of  early  June  as  June  is  known  in  New 
York.  The  mornings  are  sometimes  a  little  sultry;  but 
after  two  or  three  hours  a  fresh  breeze  comes  in  from  the 
sea  sweeping  through  the  broad  piazzas,  and  breathing  in 
at  the  windows.  At  this  season  it  comes  laden  with  the 
fragrance  of  the  flowers  of  the  Pride  of  India,  and  some 
times  of  the  orange-tree,  and  sometimes  brings  the  scent  of 
roses,  now  in  bloom.  The  nights  are  gratefully  cool;  and 
I  have  been  told  by  a  person  who  has  lived  here  many  years, 
that  there  are  very  few  nights  in  summer  when  you  can 
sleep  without  a  blanket." 


DENVER 
GEORGE   W.   STEEVENS 

NEXT  morning  we  were  in  Colorado.  The  sleepers 
were  white  with  frost,  but  the  sun  was  half  a  furnace 
at  six  in  the  morning,  and  the  sky  was  all  blue.  We  were 
rolling,  rolling  now  across  the  raw  prairie.  Wave  after 
wave  of  it  spread  out  boundlessly  on  every  side,  a  pale,  sil 
very-grey  under  the  frost  and  the  dazzling  sunshine.  No 
room  for  agriculture  here.  Seen  in  the  bulk  the  prairie  is 
much  like  a  smooth,  undulating  sea;  but  if  you  look  closer 
it  is  more  like  a  glacier — a  glacier  of  caked  sand,  wrinkled 
with  a  thousand  crevasses  in  which  streams  should  run,  but 
which  only  rarely  contain  so  much  as  a  little  ooze.  The 
surface  is  dappled  with  tufts  of  sage-scrub — small  bushes 
that  at  a  distance  resemble  bleached  heather.  Occasionally 
appeared  sparse  blades  of  coarse  grass,  but  the  rare  steers  and 
horses  had  a  right  to  be  thin.  Nothing  flourishes  in  this  arid 
wilderness  except  prairie-dogs.  Hundred  of  the  brown- 
furred  little  devils,  a  mixture  of  rabbit  and  guinea-pig,  were 
scampering  up  and  down  in  the  sun,  or  perking  themselves 
bolt  upright  at  the  edge  of  their  holes,  comically,  like  a  dog 
begging,  to  look  at  the  train  as  it  rolled  past  them.  Pres 
ently  in  the  distance  the  ground  began  to  rise  into  hills, 
and  then  the  hills  into  mountains.  We  did  not  climb  them 
but  turned  northward  and  ran  through  country  where 
the  grey  of  the  prairie  began  to  be  relieved  with  yellow  of 
deciduous  trees,  and  a  green  field  or  so  of  clover.  So  we 
ran  into  Denver,  the  mining  capital  of  the  West,  the  Queen 
City  of  the  Plains. 

88 


DENVER  89 

The  Queen  City  of  the  Plains,  if  I  may  presume  to  criti 
cise  on  a  very  brief  acquaintance,  is  more  plain  than  queenly. 
A  very  well-made,  well-arranged  city  beyond  doubt,  but 
undistinguished.  Solid  brick-built  houses,  neither  too  large 
nor  too  small,  she  has  in  the  central  part,  and  agreeable 
residences.  Her  tram-car  system  and  electric  lighting  sys 
tem  are  not  to  be  impeached.  In  one  respect  I  noticed 
Denver  has  risen  superior  to  American  carelessness.  Many 
cities  are  apt  in  places  to  leave  the  names  or  numbers  of 
their  streets  to  be  remembered  by  the  inhabitant,  or  con 
structed  out  of  the  inner  consciousness.  Denver  puts  a 
couple  of  boards  at  each  street  corner  with  not  only  the 
names  but  also  some  of  the  more  important  or  necessary 
businesses  between  that  corner  and  the  next.  But,  alas! 
even  Denver  is  human,  for  many  of  the  corners  have  indeed 
the  brackets  for  such  boards,  but  no  trace  of  boards  for  the 
brackets.  The  inhabitants  appear,  at  first  sight,  to  gain  a 
precarious  livelihood  by  selling  each  other  railway  tickets 
at  reduced  rates.  Outward  from  the  business  centre  Den 
ver  is  much  the  same  as  other  American  cities.  Perhaps  a 
little  more  beautiful  than  Chicago,  in  that  the  suburban 
roads  are  oftener  planted  with  trees;  perhaps  a  little  less  so, 
in  that  the  acres  of  railroad  tracks  and  factory  in  smaller 
Denver  are  less  diluted  by  dwelling  houses.  Much  the 
same  in  that  the  outskirts  of  both  are  dingy  and  dusty  and 
sooty,  and  largely  over-populated  with  Germans. 

But  if  Chicago  has  her  lake  to  redeem  her,  Denver  has 
her  mountains.  No  city  can  be  wholly  unpleasing  where 
you  can  look  up  from  a  street  of  railway  ticket-offices  and 
mining  agencies  to  see  a  great  mountain  filling  the  end  of 
the  vista.  It  has  been  remarked  by  some  profound  observer 
that  the  spectacle  of  high  mountains  suggests  majestic  calm. 
It  does.  But  how  majestically  calm  mountains  can  look 
I  never  knew  till  I  saw  the  Rockies  from  the  Argo  Smelting 


90  DENVER 

Works.  On  one  side  a  maze  of  railway  lines  and  row  on 
row  of  freight-trucks  formed  the  foreground.  Behind  them 
was  a  large,  low  parallelogram  of  dingy  brick  and  un- 
painted  wood  and  dull  slate;  out  of  it  rose  more  than  a 
dozen  fat  chimneys,  vomiting  clouds  of  impenetrable  black 
ness.  The  sun  was  smeared  with  the  dirtiness  of  it;  the  air 
was  poisoned  with  the  reek  of  it,  and  throbbed  with  the  pulse 
of  machinery.  On  the  other  side  rose  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
In  front  were  the  naked  brown  sides  of  the  lower  eleva 
tions — harsh  in  colour  and  savage  in  outline.  Behind  them 
towered  summits  fading  from  brown  to  a  more  kindly  grey, 
and  beginning  to  blend  the  wildness  of  their  shape  with  the 
clouds.  And  yet  further  rose  the  white  peaks  above  the 
clouds,  basking  serene  and  unperturbed  in  the  glory  of 
their  neighbour,  the  sun.  "  In  the  world  there  is  nothing 
great  but  man,"  I  repeated  with  my  face  to  the  factory,  and 
then  looked  at  the  mountains.  They  did  not  trouble  to 
rebuke  me.  What  is  the  smelter  to  them?  They  looked 
down  on  that  table-land  without  interest  when  the  smelter 
was  born,  and  they  will  look  down  without  condescending 
to  triumph  when  it  dies. 

Why  did  I  plough  through  sand  and  Germans  to  the 
Argo  Smelter?  I  haven't  an  idea,  unless  it  was  the  weird 
of  the  conscientious  journalist,  which  never  lets  him  get 
away  from  what  he  cannot  understand.  There  was  next  to 
no  work  going,  and  nearly  all  the  plant  was  still  and  cold. 
It  was  even  pathetic  to  see  the  sparse  workmen  strolling 
about  the  great  sheds  built  to  keep  twenty  times  their  num 
ber  busy.  But  I  saw  them  crushing  silver  ore,  and  it  was 
about  the  grimmest  industrial  operation  there  could  be.  No 
delicacy  of  contrivance  or  sheen  of  racing  steel,  but  heavy, 
grimy  machinery,  crushing  the  blocks  of  metallic  rock  by 
sheer  brute  force.  Then  I  saw  the  powder  being  raked 
to  and  fro  in  a  square  furnace,  and  being  raked  round  and 


DENVER  91 

round  in  a  circular  furnace.  Finally  it  comes  out,  as  I  un 
derstood,  in  a  form  in  which  it  can  be  dissolved  in  hot 
water  and  thence  precipitated  as  pure  metal.  At  this  point  I 
saw  some  rubble  in  a  wooden  box,  and  turned  to  ask  a  work 
man  whether  any  use  could  be  made  of  it.  He  said  it 
could;  that  was  the  silver.  That  the  silver — that  dirty- 
white  crumbling  mess;  half  dust,  half  coagulated  like  frozen 
snow!  That  was  it:  there  was  about  200  ounces  of  it,  he 
said,  strewn  about  the  box,  and  that  was  the  crushings  of 
over  ten  tons  of  ore.  And  was  that  the  stuff  that  all  this 
herculean  and  vulcanic  machinery  had  been  tearing  its 
heart  out  and  burning  its  ribs  through  to  force  from  the 
rock?  That  the  stuff  that  is  shaking  this  whole  country  as 
it  has  hardly  been  shaken  before?  Away,  vile  dross! 

But  that  is  not  the  view  of  Denver.  Denver  is  the  centre 
to  which  comes  for  smelting  the  gold  and  the  silver,  the 
copper  and  lead,  and  the  other  metals  which  are  woven  into 
all  the  mountains  of  Colorado. 

Colorado  calls  herself  the  Silver  State,  and  of  right,  for 
she  puts  out  more  than  one-seventh  of  the  whole  production 
of  the  world.  But  silver  is  not  what  it  was.  In  the  last 
three  years  it  has  gone  down  nearly  fifty  per  cent.  What 
was  paying  ore  then  is  now  only  fit  for  the  dump-heap. 
'  Talk  of  silver  barons,"  said  a  mining  engineer;  "you 
could  count  them  nowadays  on  the  fingers  of  your  two 
hands.  I  don't  suppose  there  are  half-a-dozen  silver-mines 
now  running,  bar  those  that  produce  gold  as  well.  It  was 
a  beautiful  business  once.  But  now  you  can't  be  surprised 
if  people  that  are  in  want  cry  out  for  some  change,  even 
if  it  is  not  quite  sound  economically."  I  told  him  I  was 
not  surprised — the  less  so  since  I  perceived  that  he  meant 
to  vote  for  free  coinage  at  1 6  to  I  himself.  So  will  they 
all  in  Colorado.  Who  can  blame  them? 


LAKE    GEORGE 
T.  ADDISON   RICHARDS 

THE  Indian,  true  to  that  dominant  emotion  of  his 
heart — a  pure  and  reverent  love  of  Nature — always 
fervently  worshipped  at  this  shrine  and  baptized  it  humbly — 
in  sympathy  with  its  own  character  and  sentiment — Hori- 
con,  or  the  Silvery  Waters;  he  called  it,  too,  Canideriout, 
or  the  Tail  of  the  Lake,  from  its  relative  position  to  the 
proximate  waters  of  Champlain.  The  French  Catholics, 
equally  obeying  the  specialities  of  their  morale,  christened 
it,  in  honour  of  their  religious  creed,  Lake  Sacrament ;  while 
the  Anglo-Saxon,  no  less  mindful  of  his  highest  and  holiest 
love,  made  it  do  homage  to  his  egotism,  and  named  it  after 
himself — Lake  George! 

As  we  jog  on,  we  may,  if  we  are  poetically  or  archaeo- 
logically  bent — as  one  is  apt  to  be  under  such  circumstances 
— recall  the  woeful  story  of  the  ill-fated  Jenny  McCrea, 
and  the  victory  of  Gates,  and  defeat  of  Burgoyne  on  Bemis' 
Heights,  both  stories  of  the  vicinage.  After  dinner  at 
Glen's  Falls,  we  may  delight  us  with  the  angry  and  tortu 
ous  passage  of  the  upper  Hudson,  over  immense  barriers  of 
jagged  marble;  and  looking  into  the  past,  we  may  espy 
the  hiding-place  of  Cooper's  fair  creations — Alice  and  Cora 
Munroe,  with  their  veteran  guardians,  Uncas  and  Hawk- 
Eye.  The  clamour  of  human  industry  at  this  once  quiet 
spot  would  now  drown  the  footfall  of  the  Mohican  better 
than  ever  did  his  stealthy  moccasin. 

Midway  between  these  famous  falls  and  the  lake,  we 
take  a  peep  at  Williams'  Rock,  a  venerable  boulder  on  the 

92 


LAKE   GEORGE  93 

wayside,  remembered  with  the  fate  of  its  god-father,  Col. 
Williams,  killed  here  in  the  "  soul-trying "  times.  The 
action  which  immortalized  this  ancient  druid  has  given  a 
dreary  interest  to  another  spot  hard  by — a  deep-down,  dank, 
and  dismal  "  Bloody  Pond,"  where  sleep  the  poor  fellows 
who  were  left  to  pay  the  Scot  at  this  sad  merry-making. 

The  charm  of  many  of  the  islands  and  localities  embraced 
in  the  view  from  Caldwell,  is  pleasantly  heightened  by  asso 
ciations  of  historic  incident.  Diamond  Isle  was  once  (who, 
now  watching  its  peaceful  aspect,  would  ever  think  it!)  a 
depot  for  military  stores  and  war-clad  bands.  Long  Point, 
hard  by,  in  1757,  formed  with  the  shore  a  harbour  for  the 
bateaux  of  Montcalm.  Yonder,  too,  are  still  found  the 
ruins  of  forts,  and  other  adjuncts  of  the  pride,  pomp,  and 
circumstances  of  glorious  war.  Fort  William  Henry,  the 
most  interesting  of  these  relics,  was  built  by  the  English 
during  the  colonial  wars  with  the  French,  in  1775.  Two 
years  after,  it  was  destroyed  by  the  Gallic  general,  Mont- 
calm,  on  the  surrender  of  the  English  garrison.  The  cir 
cumstances  of  this  capitulation  are  too  tragical  to  be  easily 
forgotten.  As  the  conquered  troops  were  leaving  the  fort, 
under  the  promise  of  protection  and  escort,  they  were  sav 
agely  attacked  by  the  Indian  allies  of  the  victors,  and  fifteen 
hundred  were  slain  or  made  captives,  the  French  looking 
calmly  and  perfidiously  on  the  while,  and  denying  all  succour 
or  interference.  To  complete  the  horror  of  the  scene,  the 
mangled  corpses  of  more  than  a  hundred  women  strewed 
the  ground. 

In  this  vicinage  are  the  ruins  of  Fort  Gex>rge;  and  close 
by  was  once  a  third  fortification,  named  in  honour  of  Gen 
eral  Gage. 

The  average  width  of  Lake  George  is  between  two  and 
three  miles.  At  the  Mohican  House,  this  average  is  ex 
ceeded;  indeed,  at  one  other  point  only  is  it  anywhere 


94  LAKE   GEORGE 

broader  than  here.  All  the  leading  features  of  the  locality 
are  happily  commanded  here.  The  islands  within  range 
of  the  eye  are  many  and  of  surpassing  beauty — and  among 
them  is  that  odd  little  nautical  eccentricity  called  Ship 
Island,  from  the  mimicry  in  its  verdure  to  the  proportions 
and  lines  of  the  ship.  The  landing  is  near  the  mouth  of 
the  northwest  bay — a  special  expanse  of  five  miles,  stolen 
from  the  main  waters  by  the  grand  mountain  promontory, 
aptly  called  the  Tongue.  It  is  the  extension  into  the  Lake 
of  this  ridge  of  hill  which  forms  the  Narrows,  entered  imme 
diately  after  passing  Bolton.  Contracted  as  the  channel 
is  at  this  point,  it  seems  yet  narrower  from  the  greater  ele 
vation  of  the  mountains,  among  which  are  the  most  mag 
nificent  peaks  of  the  neighbourhood.  Here  is  the  home  of 
Shelving  Rock,  with  its  hemisphere  of  palisades,  and  its 
famous  dens  of  rattlesnakes;  here,  too,  monarch  of  hills, 
the  Black  Mountain,  with  his  rugged  crown  of  rock,  holds 
his  court.  Tongue  Mountain  is  the  favoured  haunt  of  the 
Nimrods  in  their  search  for  the  luscious  venison.  Speaking 
of  the  chase  reminds  us  that  we  owe  a  line  to  the  sister 
sport  of  the  angle.  It  is  in  the  vicinage  of  Bolton  that  both 
these  delights  may  be  best  attained,  and  particularly  is  it 
the  field,  par  excellence,  for  piscatory  achievements.  Were 
it  not  that  so  very  little  credence  is  placed  in  the  avoirdu 
pois  of  fishermen,  we  would  allude  modestly  to  the  weight 
of  certain  astonishing  creatures  of  the  trout  and  bass  kind 
which  we  have  ourselves  persuaded  to  the  hook. 

Charming  as  are  the  scenes  from  the  surface  of  the  Lake, 
they  are  surpassed  by  the  glimpses  continually  occurring 
in  the  passage  of  the  road  on  the  western  shore  (the  precipi- 
tousness  of  the  mountains  on  the  other  side  admits  of  no 
land  passage),  and  commanded  by  the  summits  of  the  hills. 
Leaving  Bolton,  the  road  which  has  thus  far  followed  the 
margin  or  the  vicinage  of  the  water,  steals  off,  and  sullenly 


LAKE   GEORGE  95 

winds  its  rugged  and  laborious  way  across  the  mountains, 
offering  nothing  of  interest  until  it  again  descends  to  the 
Lake  near  Garfield's — a  tedious  traverse  of  a  score  of  miles 
or  more.  The  interval  is  much  more  rapidly  and  pleasantly 
made  on  the  steamer.  From  Sabbath-Day  Point  and  Gar- 
field's  the  road  again  jogs  on  merrily  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  water.  Descending  the  mountains  at  the  northern 
end  of  this  central  portion  of  the  Lake  road,  you  catch  a 
noble  and  welcome  panorama  of  the  upper  part  of  the 
Horicon.  But  returning  to  Bolton — we  were  about  speak 
ing  of  the  delightful  scenes  from  the  shore  thereat.  Within 
a  short  walk  northward,  an  exceedingly  characteristic  view 
is  found  looking  across  the  mouth  of  the  Northwest  bay  of 
the  Narrows.  From  all  the  eminences  or  from  the  shore, 
the  landscape  is  here  of  admirable  simplicity,  breadth,  and 
grandeur.  It  is  seen  most  justly  as  the  morning  sun  peeps 
over  Black  Mountain  and  its  attendant  peaks.  Looking 
southward  from  various  points  yet  further  on,  fine  views 
of  the  head  of  the  Lake  are  obtained — among  them  the 
master  feature  of  the  southern  extremity — the  French 
Mountain — terminating  a  pleasant  stretch  of  lawn,  hill, 
and  islanded  water. 

It  is  while  the  eye  is  filled  with  such  scenes  as  these 
modest  hilltops  offer,  more,  perhaps,  than  when  embowered 
in  the  solitudes  of  the  island  shades,  or  than  when  wander 
ing  by  the  rippling  shore,  that  the  soul  is  most  conscious 
of  the  subtle  nature  of  the  charms  which  make  us  cling  to 
and  desire  ever  to  dwell  near  Horicon.  This  secret  and 
omnipotent  essence  is  the  rare  presence  of  the  quiet  and 
grace  of  the  beautiful — heightened,  but  not  overcome,  by  the 
laughing  caprices  of  the  picturesque,  and  the  solemn  dig 
nity  of  the  grand  in  nature.  The  beautiful  alone,  wanting 
that  contrast  and  variety  which  keeps  curiosity  alert  and 
interested,  soon  wearies  and  cloys — the  sublime  calling  forth 


96  LAKE   GEORGE 

feelings  of  astonishment,  and  sometimes  even  of  terror, 
stretches  the  fibres  so  much  beyond  their  natural  tone  as  to 
create  pain,  so  that  the  effect,  however  great,  cannot  be 
very  enduring.  When  these  several  qualities  are  united,  as 
they  are  in  the  luxuriant,  changeful,  and  wide-spreading 
landscape  of  Lake  George,  a  pleasant  and  lasting  sensation 
of  delight  is  the  result — a  healthy  tone  of  pleasurable  ex 
citement,  in  which  are  avoided  the  extremes  both  of  the 
languor  of  beauty  and  the  painful  tension  of  emotion  pro 
duced  by  the  sublime. 

The  attractions  of  Horicon  will  be  yet  more  perfect  when 
time  shall  effect  the  additional  infusion  of  the  picturesque, 
which  will  follow  the  enterprise,  opulence,  and  taste  of  in 
creasing  population.  Though  now  exhibiting  all  the  ele 
ments  of  perfect  beauty,  she  yet  bides  her  time  for  complete 
development.  She  is  now,  to  her  sister  waters  of  the  Old 
World,  as  the  untaught  forest  maiden  is  to  the  peerless 
queen  of  the  boudoir  and  saloon.  The  refining  and  spirit 
ualizing  hand  of  art  will  soon  enliven  her  quieter  features, 
and  soften  her  rougher  characteristics.  Ruined  battlements 
and  legendary  shrines  may  never  deck  her  bluffs  and  prom 
ontories  in  the  mystic  veil  of  romance,  but  happy  cottages 
and  smiling  homes  of  health  and  content  will  climb  her 
rude  acclivities,  and  merry  summer  villas  will  peep  glee 
fully  out  of  the  clustering  shrubbery  of  her  lovely  isles, 
bringing  to  heart  more  grateful  thoughts  and  hopes  than 
would  the  vaunted  accessories  of  older  spots,  inasmuch  as 
they  will  whisper  of  a  yet  higher  civilization  and  of  a  nobler 
life. 

So  admirably  attuned  are  all  the  elements  of  beauty  in 
the  scenery  of  Lake  George,  that  on  our  first  acquaintance 
with  the  region  we  could  scarcely  imagine  it  ever  to  appear 
under  a  different  aspect  than  the  sunny  phase  in  which  we 
then  saw  it.  So  perfect  did  nature  appear,  both  in  the 


LAKE   GEORGE  97 

general  sentiment  and  in  the  most  minute  detail,  that  we 
could  think  of  her  doing 

"  Nothing  but  that,   more  still,   still   so,    and   own 
No  other  function  " 

As  we  gazed  around  upon  the  chattering  waters  and  upon 
the  rejoicing  hills,  we  wondered  whether  storm  and  cloud 
ever  darkened  their  radiant  face — whether  the  wrath  of 
the  mad  and  unchained  elements  ever  managed  to  break 
the  spell  of  calm  repose.  But  we  learned  in  due  time  that, 
as  the  mildest  eye  will  sometimes  glance  in  wrath,  and  the 
rosiest  lip  will  curl  in  scorn,  so  the  black  scowl  of  the 
tempest  would  gather  upon  the  brows  of  the  peaceful  hills, 
and  hide  the  smile  of  the  gentle  floods  of  Horicon — only, 
though,  soon  to  pass  away,  and  leave  hill  and  water  more 
verdant  and  sparkling  than  before.  When  the  air  is  thus 
cleared  by  storm  or  shower,  the  surrounding  hills  glitter 
in  almost  painful  distinctness,  each  stem  and  stone  from  the 
base  to  the  crown  of  the  mountains  seeming  to  come  within 
the  grasp  of  your  hand.  Once — deceived  by  this  false  sem 
blance — we  were  persuaded  to  undertake  the  passage  of  the 
Lake  and  the  ascent  of  Black  Mountain.  "It  is  so  easy 
and  simple  a  matter,"  said  our  adventurous  friends,  "  and 
may  be  managed  so  readily  and  so  rapidly."  Alas!  poor 
deluded  wretches!  Well  was  it  that  our  fancy  came  with 
the  rising  of  the  sun,  and  that  no  delay  followed  in  the  exe 
cution,  for  night  fairly  overtook  us  before  we  regained  our 
domicile,  under  the  firm  conviction  of  the  verity  of  the  old 
proverb  touching  the  deceitfulness  of  appearances.  As  a 
memento  of  this  excursion  we  brought  back  a  rattlesnake 
which  we  demolished  on  the  way;  and  the  skin  of  which 
one  of  our  party,  following  the  sumptuary  habits  of  the 
people,  afterwards  wore  as  a  hat-band.  Turning  from  the 
position  whence  we  have  been  gazing  upon  the  French 


98  LAKE    GEORGE 

Mountain,  we  may  detect,  upon  the  extreme  left,  the  petite 
area  of  Fourteen  Mile  Island,  lying  at  the  base  of  Shelving 
Rock,  and  near  the  entrance  to  the  Narrows.  This  is  a 
famous  temporary  home  of  the  Nimrods  who  chase  the  deer 
over  the  crags  of  the  Tongue  Mountain,  opposite.  The 
domestic  appliances  of  this  rude  resting-place  are  as  nomadic 
as  the  roughest  hunter  could  desire. 

On  the  Pinacle,  a  lofty  peak  west  of  the  hotel,  a  more 
extended  panorama  of  the  Lake  is  obtained.  We  often 
climbed  to  the  summit  of  the  hills  on  the  road  westward  of 
Bolton;  once  we  found  ourselves  there  at  the  very  peep  of 
day,  when  the  stern  and  rugged  phiz  of  Black  Mountain 
was  bathed  in  the  purple  light  of  the  rising  sun;  the  few 
fleeting  clouds  visible  in  the  heavens  were  tinged  with  gold, 
doubly  gorgeous  in  contrast  with  the  grey  hue  of  the  unillu- 
mined  hills  beneath,  the  blue  waters,  and  the  yet-sleeping 
islands.  Still  a  few  moments,  and  "  heaven's  wide  arch 
was  glorious  with  the  sun's  returning  march."  Floods  of 
living  light  swept  over  the  extended  landscape — the  hun 
dred  islets  rubbed  their  sleepy  eyes,  and  joyously  awoke 
again,  while  the  waters  threw  off  the  drapery  of  their 
couch  in  the  shape  of  long  lines  of  vapour,  which  the  jocund 
king  of  day — merrily  performing  the  role  of  chambermaid — 
busied  himself  in  rolling  carefully  up  on  the  hillside,  and 
hiding  away  until  they  should  be  again  required.  It  was 
one  of  those  magical  scenes  of  which  the  poet  and  painter 
more  often  dream  than  realize. 

Thus  far  our  panorama  gazings  have  (from  the  inter 
vening  of  the  Tongue)  shown  us  only  the  southern  end 
of  Horicon.  At  the  2200  feet  elevation  of  the  Black 
Mountain,  the  eye  sweeps  the  entire  extent  of  the  lake — 
Champlain,  lying  at  its  eastern  base — and  of  all  the  region 
round,  to  the  peaks  of  the  Adirondacks,  and  the  green  hills 
of  Vermont.  But  very  few  tourists,  few  of  the  Nimrods 


LAKE   GEORGE  99 

even,  brave  the  toils  of  an  ascent  to  the  crown  of  this  stately 
pile.  The  way  is  wearisomely  steep  and  beset  with  dan 
gers.  Watching  with  due  precaution  for  the  rattlesnake, 
you  may  overlook  the  approach  of  the  bear,  or  unexpectedly 
encounter  the  catamount — not  to  mention  the  host  of  less 
distinguished  animals,  "  native  here,  and  to  the  manner 
born." 

When  you  are  ready,  or  necessitated  rather,  to  say  adieu 
to  Bolton  (for  continued  parting  is  the  sad  alloy  of  the 
traveller's  rare  privilege  of  varied  greeting),  the  little 
steamer  will  pick  you  up  all  in  the  morning  betimes,  and 
whisk  you  through  the  Narrows  to  your  next  bivouac,  at 
Sabbath-Day  Point. 

The  passage  of  the  Narrows,  either  in  storm  or  sunshine, 
at  noontide  or  night,  is  not  the  least  agreeable  item  in  your 
Lake  experience.  The  waters  here  reach  a  depth  of  four 
hundred  feet,  and  so  surprisingly  translucent  are  they,  that 
you  may  watch  the  gambols  of  the  finny  peoples  many 
fathoms  below  the  surface.  In  most  parts  of  the  Lake  you 
may  count  the  pebbles  at  the  bottom  as  your  skiff  glides 
along. 

We  shall  be  set  ashore  at  Sabbath-Day  Point  in  a  bat- 
teau,  for  want  of  a  steamboat  landing.  Such  a  convenience 
was  once  found  here.  Once  Sabbath-Day  Point  was  a 
point  everybody  longed  to  know.  A  commodious  and  fash 
ionable  summer  hotel  stood  here,  and  a  miraculous  old  land 
lord  did  the  honours  in  his  own  remarkable  way.  Hotel, 
landlord,  and  visitors  have  all  vanished.  Nature,  though, 
yet  remains — young,  lovely,  and  riant  as  ever.  The  pleas~ 
ant  strip  of  meadow  pokes  its  merry  nose  into  the  Lake 
with  the  saucy  impudence  of  other  days,  and  scans  with 
wonted  satisfaction  the  glorious  sweep  of  the  waters,  as 
they  vanish  southward  in  the  defile  of  the  Narrows;  or 
northward,  reflect  on  their  broad  expanse  the  Titan  phiz 


100  LAKE    GEORGE 

of  good  Saint  Anthony,  and  the  rocky  flanks  of  Roger's 
Slide. 

In  1756,  a  handful  of  colonists  here  successfully  repelled 
a  stormy  onslaught  of  the  Indians  and  French.  Here,  too, 
in  1758,  General  Abercrombie  and  his  gallant  army 
lunched,  en  route  from  Fort  George,  at  the  head  of  the 
Lake,  to  attack  the  French  at  Ticonderoga.  The  sky  was 
gemmed  with  stars,  and  the  disc  of  the  moon  fell  unbroken 
upon  the  motionless  waters,  as  this  glorious  array  of  a  thou 
sand  boats,  bearing  sixteen  thousand  men,  pursued  their 
stealthy  march.  As  the  brilliant  cavalcade  debarked,  the 
bright  uniforms  sparkled  in  the  beams  of  the  rising  sun, 
and  the  morning  being  the  Sabbath,  the  little  cape  was 
happily  called  Sabbath-Day  Point.  Here  again,  in  the 
memorable  1776,  the  patriot  militia  dealt  some  successful 
back-handers  to  the  Tories  and  their  Indian  allies. 

From  Sabbath-Day  Point  we  may  re-embark  on  the 
steamer,  or  continue  our  journey  by  land,  as  the  road  now 
touches  the  Lake  again.  Three  miles  onward  we  make 
the  little  village  of  Hague,  if  village  it  can  be  styled.  The 
visitor  will  remember  the  locality  as  Garfield's — one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  esteemed  summer  camps.  Judge  Garfield 
would  seem  to  have  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  every 
deer  on  the  hillside,  and  with  every  trout  in  the  waters, 
so  habitually  are  these  gentry  found  at  his  luxurious  table. 

An  excellent  landing  facilitates  the  approach  to  Gar- 
field's,  and  the  steamboat  touches  daily,  up  and  down. 

The  shore  route  hence  to  Ticonderoga  is  through  a 
pleasant  country,  well  worth  exploring.  We  will  pursue 
our  journey  now  by  water.  Just  beyond,  the  Lake  is  again 
reduced  to  Procrustean  limits,  as  it  brushes  between  the 
opposing  walls  of  Rogers'  Rock  and  Anthony's  Slide.  The 
reader  is  doubtless  familiar  with  the  ruse  by  which  Major 
Rogers,  flying  from  the  Indians  in  1758,  persuaded  them 


LAKE   GEORGE  IOI 

that  he  had  achieved  the  marvellous  feat  of  sliding  down 
this  grand  declivity;  thus  cleverly  reversing  the  theory  of 
the  sublime  Western  poet — seeking  to — 

"  Prove  that  one  Indian  savage 
Is  worth  two  white  men,  on  an  av'rage." 

North  of  Rogers'  Rock  the  character  of  the  Lake  changes ; 
the  wild  mountain  shores  yield  to  a  fringe  of  verdant  lawn 
and  shady  copse,  and  the  water  grows  momently  more  shal 
low.  This  last  variation  was  a  Godsend  to  the  first  Eng 
lish  captives,  detained  by  the  French  and  Indians  in  the 
olden  time,  upon  Prisoners'  Island,  hereabouts.  At  a  quiet 
moment  they  took  French  leave,  and  waded  ashore. 

Directly  west  of  Prisoners'  Island  is  Howe's  Landing, 
the  point  of  debarkation  of  the  mighty  flotilla  which  we 
met  at  Sabbath-Day  Point:  and  here,  too,  good  reader,  is 
our  landing,  and  the  end  of  our  voyage  of  Horicon. 

You  will  now  collect  your  traps,  and  stepping  with  us, 
into  one  of  the  carriages  which  await — take  a  pleasant  jog 
of  four  miles  down  the  merry  outlet  of  Lake  George,  and 
through  the  two  villages  of  Ticonderoga,  or  "  Tye,"  as  they 
are  familiarly  called,  to  the  brave  old  fort  which  the  sturdy 
Ethan  Allen  so  audaciously  seized,  "  in  the  name  of  the 
Great  Jehovah  and  the  Continental  Congress."  In  this 
little  four-mile  gallop  of  Horicon  to  Lake  Champlain,  the 
water  makes  a  descent  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  feet, 
forming  in  the  journey  two  series  of  very  considerable  cas 
cades,  called  the  Upper  and  Lower  Falls;  both  made  indus 
trially  available  by  the  denizens  of  the  villages  just  men 
tioned.  This  ride,  with  its  opening  vistas  of  the  valleys  and 
hills  of  Vermont;  its  foaming  cataracts;  its  charming  reve 
lations  of  the  grand  waters  of  Champlain ;  and,  above  all,  its 
termination  amidst  the  remains  of  the  famed  old  Fort,  is  a 
welcome  sequel  to  the  day's  delights. 


PLYMOUTH    ROCK 
JOHN    GORHAM    PALFREY 

THE  narrow  peninsula,  sixty  miles  long,  which  ter 
minates  in  Cape  Cod,  projects  eastwardly  from  the 
mainland  of  Massachusetts,  in  shape  resembling  the  human 
arm  bent  rectangularly  at  the  elbow  and  again  at  the  wrist. 
In  the  basin  enclosed  landward  by  the  extreme  point  of  this 
projection,  in  the  roadstead  of  what  is  now  Provincetown, 
the  Mayflower  dropped  her  anchor  at  noon  on  a  Saturday 
near  the  close  of  autumn.  The  exigencies  of  a  position  so 
singular  demanded  an  organization  adequate  to  the  preser 
vation  of  order  and  of  common  safety,  and  the  following 
instrument  was  prepared  and  signed: 

"  In  the  name  of  God,  amen.  We,  whose  names  are 
underwritten,  the  loyal  subjects  of  our  dread  sovereign 
lord,  King  James,  by  the  grace  of  God,  of  Great  Britain, 
France,  and  Ireland,  King,  Defender  of  the  Faith,  &c.,  hav 
ing  undertaken,  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  advancement  of 
the  Christian  faith,  and  honour  of  our  King  and  country, 
a  voyage  to  plant  the  first  colony  in  the  northern  parts  of 
Virginia,  do  by  these  presents,  solemnly  and  mutually,  in 
the  presence  of  God  and  one  of  another,  covenant  and  com 
bine  ourselves  together  in  a  civil  body  politic,  for  our  better 
ordering  and  preservation,  and  furtherance  of  the  ends 
aforesaid ;  and  by  virtue  hereof  to  enact,  constitute,  and 
frame  such  just  and  equal  laws,  ordinances,  acts,  constitu 
tions,  and  offices,  from  time  to  time,  as  shall  be  thought 
most  meet  and  convenient  for  the  general  good  of  the 
colony;  unto  which  we  promise  all  due  submission  and 

102 


PLYMOUTH    ROCK  103 

obedience.  In  witness  whereof  we  have  hereunder  sub 
scribed  our  names,  at  Cape  Cod,  the  nth  of  November, 
in  the  year  of  the  reign  of  our  sovereign  lord,  King  James, 
of  England,  France,  and  Ireland  the  eighteenth,  and  of 
Scotland  the  fifty-fourth,  Anno  Domini  1620." 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  Colony  of  Plymouth.  To 
the  end  of  its  separate  history,  it  continued  to  be  an  humble 
community  in  numbers  and  in  wealth.  When  four  years 
had  passed,  the  village  consisted  of  only  thirty-two  cabins, 
inhabited  by  a  hundred  and  eighty  persons. 

The  government  of  the  company  was  proscribed  by  the 
majority  of  voices,  and  administered  by  one  of  its  members, 
with  another  for  his  assistant.  It  was  not  so  much  a  com 
monwealth  as  a  factory,  of  which  the  head  bore  the  title 
of  Governor.  Six  years  later,  it  had  added  two  hundred 
more;  and,  at  the  end  of  its  life  of  seventy  years,  its  popu 
lation,  scattered  through  several  towns,  had  probably  not 
come  to  exceed  eight  thousand.  It  is  on  account  of  the  vir 
tue  displayed  in  its  institution  and  management,  and  of  the 
great  consequences  to  which  it  ultimately  led,  that  the 
Colony  of  Plymouth  claims  the  attention  of  mankind.  In 
any  other  view,  its  records  wrould  be  unattractive.  The 
building  of  log  hovels,  the  turning  of  sand-heaps  into  corn 
fields,  dealings  with  stupid  Indians  and  with  overreaching 
partners  in  trade,  anxious  struggles  to  get  a  living,  and, 
at  most,  the  sufferings  of  men,  women,  and  children,  wast 
ing  under  cold,  sickness,  and  famine,  feebly  supply,  as  the 
staple  of  a  history,  the  place  of  those  splendid  exhibitions 
of  power,  and  those  critical  conflicts  of  intrigue  and  war, 
which  fill  the  annals  of  great  empires. 

At  the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  compact  for  a  govern 
ment,  Carver  was  chosen  Governor  of  the  company.  In 
the  afternoon,  "  fifteen  or  sixteen  men,  well  armed,"  were 
sent  on  shore  to  reconnoitre  and  collect  fuel.  They  re- 


104  PLYMOUTH    ROCK 

turned  at  evening,  reporting  that  they  had  seen  neither 
person  nor  dwelling,  but  that  the  country  was  well  wooded, 
and  that  the  appearance  as  to  soil  was  promising. 

Having  kept  their  Sabbath  in  due  retirement,  the  men 
began  the  labours  of  the  week  by  landing  a  shallop  from 
the  ship  and  hauling  it  up  the  beach  for  repairs,  while  the 
women  went  on  shore  to  wash  clothes.  While  the  car 
penter  and  his  men  were  at  work  on  the  boat,  sixteen  others, 
armed  and  provisioned,  with  Standish  for  their  commander, 
set  off  on  foot  to  explore  the  country.  The  only  incident 
of  this  day  was  the  sight  of  five  or  six  savages,  who  on  their 
approach  ran  away  too  swiftly  to  be  overtaken.  At  night, 
lighting  a  fire  and  setting  a  guard,  the  party  bivouacked 
at  the  distance,  as  they  supposed,  of  ten  miles  from  their 
vessel.  Proceeding  southward  next  morning,  they  observed 
marks  of  cultivation,  some  heaps  of  earth,  which  they  took 
for  signs  of  graves,  and  the  remains  of  a  hut,  with  "  a  great 
kettle,  which  had  been  some  ship's  kettle."  In  a  heap 
which  they  opened,  they  found  two  baskets  containing  four 
or  five  bushels  of  Indian  corn,  of  which  they  took  as  much 
as  they  could  carry  away  in  their  pockets  and  in  the  kettle. 
Further  on,  they  saw  two  canoes,  and  "  an  old  fort  or  pali- 
sado,  made  by  some  Christians,"  as  they  thought.  The  sec 
ond  night,  which  was  rainy,  they  encamped  again,  with 
more  precautions  than  before.  On  Friday  evening,  having 
lost  their  way  meanwhile,  and  been  amused  by  an  accident 
to  Bradford,  who  was  caught  in  an  Indian  deer-trap,  they 
returned  to  their  friends  "  both  weary  and  welcome,"  and 
idelivered  in  their  corn  into  the  store  to  be  kept  for  seed, 
for  they  knew  not  how  to  come  by  any,  and  therefore  were 
very  glad,  proposing,  so  soon  as  they  could  meet  with  any 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  place,  to  make  them  large  satis 
faction. 

The  succeeding  week  was  spent  in  putting  their  tools  in 


PLYMOUTH    ROCK  105 

order  and  preparing  timber  for  a  new  boat.  During  this 
time,  which  proved  to  be  cold  and  stormy,  much  incon 
venience  was  experienced  from  having  to  wade  "  a  bow 
shot "  through  the  shallow  water  to  the  shore;  and  many 
took  "  coughs  and  colds,  which  afterwards  turned  to  the 
scurvy."  On  Monday  of  the  week  next  following,  twenty- 
four  of  the  colonists,  in  the  shallop,  which  was  now  re 
fitted,  set  out  for  an  exploration  along  the  coast,  accom 
panied  by  Jones,  the  shipmaster,  and  ten  of  his  people,  in 
the  long-boat.  That  day  and  the  following  night  they 
suffered  from  a  cold  snowstorm,  and  were  compelled  to 
run  in  to  the  shore  for  security.  The  next  day  brought 
them  into  the  harbour  to  which  the  preceding  journey  by 
land  had  been  extended,  now  named  by  them  Cold  Har 
bour,  and  ascertained  to  have  a  depth  of  twelve  feet  of 
water  at  flood-tide.  Having  slept  under  a  shelter  of  pine 
trees,  they  proceeded  to.  make  an  examination  of  the  spot 
as  to  its  fitness  for  their  settlement;  in  doing  which,  under 
the  snow-covered  and  frozen  surface,  they  found  another 
parcel  of  corn  and  a  bag  of  beans.  These  spoils  they  sent 
back  in  the  shallop  with  Jones  and  sixteen  of  the  party, 
who  were  ill,  or  worn  out  with  exposure  and  fatigue. 
Marching  inland  five  or  six  miles,  they  found  a  grave  with 
a  deposit  of  personal  articles,  as  "  bowls,  trays,  dishes,"  "  a 
knife,  a  pack-needle,"  "  a  little  bow,"  and  some  "  strings 
and  bracelets  of  fine  white  beads."  Two  wigwams  were 
seen,  which  appeared  to  have  been  recently  inhabited.  Re 
turning  to  their  boat  in  the  evening,  the  party  hastened  to 
rejoin  their  friends. 

The  question  was  discussed  whether  they  should  make 
a  further  examination  of  the  coast,  or  sit  down  at  the 
harbour  which  had  been  visited.  The  land  about  it  had 
been  under  cultivation.  The  site  appeared  healthy,  and 
convenient  for  defence,  as  well  as  for  taking  whales,  of 


106  PLYMOUTH    ROCK 

which  numbers  were  daily  seen.  The  severity  of  the  win 
ter  season  was  close  at  hand,  and  the  delay,  fatigue,  and 
risk  of  further  explorations  were  dreaded.  But  on  the 
whole,  the  uncertainty  as  to  an  adequate  supply  of  water, 
with  the  insufficiency  of  the  harbour,  which,  though  com 
modious  for  boats,  was  too  shallow  for  larger  vessels,  was 
regarded  as  a  conclusive  objection,  and  it  was  resolved  to 
make  a  further  examination  of  the  bay.  The  mate  of  the 
'Mayflower  had  told  them  of  Agawam,  now  Ipswich,  as  a 
good  harbour,  with  fertile  land,  and  facilities  for  fishing. 
But,  as  things  stood,  it  was  thought  too  distant  for  a  visit. 
As  soon  as  the  state  of  the  weather  permitted,  a  party 
of  ten,  including  Carver,  Bradford,  and  others  of  the  prin 
cipal  men,  set  off  with  eight  seamen  in  the  shallop  on  what 
proved  to  be  the  final  expedition  of  discovery.  The  severity 
of  the  cold  was  extreme.  :<  The  water  froze  on  their 
clothes,  and  made  them  many  times  like  coats  of  iron." 
Coasting  along  the  cape  in  a  southerly  direction  for  six  or 
seven  leagues,  they  landed  and  slept  at  a  place  where  ten 
or  twelve  Indians  had  appeared  on  the  shore.  The  Indians 
ran  away  on  being  approached,  and  at  night  it  was  supposed 
that  it  was  their  fires  which  appeared  at  four  or  five  miles' 
distance.  The  next  day,  while  part  of  the  company  in  the 
shallop  examined  the  shore,  the  rest,  ranging  about  the 
country  where  are  now  the  towns  of  Wellfleet  and  East- 
ham,  found  a  burial-place,  some  old  wigwams,  and  a  small 
store  of  parched  acorns,  buried  in  the  ground ;  but  they  met 
with  no  inhabitants.  The  following  morning,  at  daylight, 
they  had  just  ended  their  prayers,  and  were  preparing 
breakfast  at  their  camp  on  the  beach,  when  they  heard  a 
yell,  and  a  flight  of  arrows  fell  among  them.  The  assail 
ants  turned  out  to  be  thirty  or  forty  Indians,  who,  being 
fired  upon,  retired.  Neither  side  had  been  harmed.  A 
number  of  the  arrows  were  picked  up,  "  some  whereof 


PLYMOUTH    ROCK  107 

were  headed  with  brass,  others  with  hart's  horn,  and  others 
with  eagle's  claws." 

Getting  on  board,  they  sailed  all  day  along  the  shore  in 
a  storm  of  snow  and  sleet,  making,  by  their  estimate,  a 
distance  of  forty  or  fifty  miles,  without  discovering  a  har 
bour.  In  the  afternoon,  the  gale  having  increased,  their 
rudder  was  disabled,  and  they  had  to  steer  with  oars.  At 
length  the  mast  was  carried  away,  and  they  drifted  in  the 
dark  with  a  flood  tide.  With  difficulty  they  brought  up 
under  the  lee  of  a  "  small  rise  of  land."  Here  a  part  of 
the  company,  suffering  from  wet  and  cold,  went  on  shore, 
though  not  without  fear  of  hostile  neighbours,  and  lighted 
a  fire  by  which  to  pass  the  inclement  night.  In  the  morn 
ing,  "  they  found  themselves  to  be  on  an  island  secure  from 
the  Indians,  where  they  might  dry  their  stuff,  fix  their 
pieces,  and  rest  themselves;  and,  this  being  the  last  day  of 
the  week,  they  prepared  there  to  keep  the  Sabbath.1 

"  On  Monday,  they  sounded  the  harbour,  and  found  it 
fit  for  shipping,  and  marched  also  into  the  land,  and  found 

1  "  A  trustworthy  tradition  has  preserved  the  knowledge  of  the 
landing-place,  naturally  an  object  of  interest  both  to  the  inhabi 
tants  and  to  strangers.  It  was  Plymouth  Rock.  Part  of  it  is  now 
imbedded  in  a  wharf.  When  this  was  about  to  be  built,  in  1741, 
Elder  Thomas  Faunce,  then  ninety-one  years  old,  came  to  visit  the 
rock,  and  to  remonstrate  against  its  being  exposed  to  injury;  and 
he  repeated  what  he  had  heard  of  it  from  the  first  planters.  Elder 
Faunce's  testimony  was  transmitted  through  Mrs.  White,  who  died 
in  1810,  ninety-five  years  old,  and  Deacon  Ephraim  Spooner,  who 
died  in  1818,  at  the  age  of  eighty-three.  In  1775,  the  rock  was 
broken  into  two  pieces,  in  an  attempt  to  remove  it  to  the  town 
square.  The  large  fragment  which  was  separated  was,  in  1834, 
placed  before  Pilgrim  Hall,  and  inclosed  within  an  iron  railing. 

"  The  tradition  does  not  appear  to  have  unequivocally  determined 
who  it  was  that  landed  on  the  rock,  whether  the  exploring  party 
of  ten  men  who  went  on  shore  at  Plymouth,  December  n  (old 
style),  or  the  whole  company,  who  came  into  Plymouth  harbour  in 


I0g  PLYMOUTH    ROCK 

divers  cornfields  and  little  running  brooks,  a  place,  as  they 
supposed,  fit  for  situation;  ...  so  they  returned  to 
the  ship  again  with  this  news  to  the  rest  of  their  people, 
which  did  much  comfort  their  hearts."  Such  is  the  record 
of  that  event  which  has  made  the  twenty-second  of  De 
cember  a  memorable  day  in  the  calendar. 

the  Mayflower  on  Saturday,  December  16,  and  who,  or  a  part  of 
whom,  'went  a  land'  two  days  after.  The  received  opinion,  that 
the  same  landing-place,  as  being  the  most  convenient  within  sight, 
was  used  on  both  occasions,  appears  altogether  probable." 


FORT   NIAGARA 
S.   DE  VEAUX 

THIS  fortress  is  in  latitude  43  cleg.  14  sec.  N.  In 
1679,  a  small  spot  was  enclosed  by  palisades,  by 
M.  De  Salle,  an  officer  in  the  service  of  France.  In  1725, 
the  fort  was  built.  In  1759,  it  was  taken  by  the  British, 
under  Sir  William  Johnson.  The  capture  has  been  ascribed 
to  treachery,  though  there  is  not  known  to  be  any  existing 
authority  to  prove  the  charge.  In  1796,  it  was  surrendered 
to  the  United  States.  On  the  igth  of  December,  1813,  it 
was  again  taken  by  the  British,  by  surprise;  and  in  March, 
J8i5,  again  surrendered  to  the  Americans.  This  old  fort 
is  as  much  noted  for  enormity  and  crime,  as  for  any  good 
ever  derived  from  it  by  the  nation  in  occupation.  While 
in  the  hands  of  the  French,  there  is  no  doubt  of  its  having 
been,  at  times,  used  as  a  prison;  its  close  and  impregnable 
dungeons,  where  light  was  not  admitted,  and  where  re 
mained,  for  many  years  after,  clear  traces,  and  a  part  of 
the  ready  instruments  for  execution,  or  for  murder.  Dur 
ing  the  American  Revolution  it  was  the  headquarters  of 
all  that  was  barbarous,  unrelenting,  and  cruel.  There, 
were  congregated  the  leaders  and  chiefs  of  those  bands  of 
murderers  and  miscreants,  that  carried  death  and  destruc 
tion  into  the  remote  American  settlements.  There,  civil 
ized  Europe  revelled  with  savage  America;  and  ladies  of 
education  and  refinement  mingled  in  the  society  of  those 
whose  only  distinction  was  to  wield  the  bloody  tomahawk 
and  scalping-knife.  There,  the  squaws  of  the  forest  were 
raised  to  eminence,  and  the  most  unholy  unions  between 

109 


HO  FORT   NIAGARA 

them  and  the  officers  of  highest  rank,  smiled  upon  and  coun 
tenanced.  There,  in  their  stronghold,  like  a  nest  of  vul 
tures,  securely,  for  seven  years,  they  sallied  forth  and 
preyed  upon  the  distant  settlements  of  the  Mohawks  and 
Susquehannas.  It  was  the  depot  of  their  plunder;  there, 
they  planned  their  forays,  and  there  they  returned  to  feast, 
until  the  hour  of  action  came  again. 

Fort  Niagara  is  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and  stands 
on  a  point  of  land  at  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara  River. 
It  is  a  traditionary  story,  that  the  mess-house,  which  is  a 
very  strong  building  and  the  largest  in  the  fort,  was  erected 
by  stratagem.  A  considerable,  though  not  powerful,  body 
of  French  troops  had  arrived  at  the  point.  Their  force 
was  inferior  to  the  surrounding  Indians,  of  whom  they 
were  under  some  apprehensions.  They  obtained  consent  of 
the  Indians  to  build  a  wigwam,  and  induced  them,  with 
some  of  their  officers,  to  engage  in  an  extensive  hunt.  The 
materials  had  been  made  ready,  and,  while  the  Indians 
were  absent,  the  French  built.  When  the  parties  returned, 
at  night,  they  had  advanced  so  far  with  the  work  as  to 
cover  their  faces,  and  to  defend  themselves  against  the  sav 
ages,  in  case  of  an  attack.  In  progress  of  time,  it  became  a 
place  of  considerable  strength.  It  had  its  bastions,  ravines; 
its  ditch  and  pickets;  its  curtains  and  counterscarp;  its  cov 
ered  way,  drawbridge,  raking  batteries;  its  stone  towers, 
laboratory,  and  magazine;  its  mess-house,  barracks,  bakery 
and  blacksmith  shop;  and,  for  worship,  a  chapel,  with  a 
large  ancient  dial  over  the  door,  to  mark  the  hourly  course 
of  the  sun.  It  was,  indeed,  a  little  city  of  itself,  and  for  a 
long  period  the  greatest  south  of  Montreal,  or  west  of 
Albany.  The  fortifications  originally  covered  a  space  of 
about  eight  acres.  At  a  few  rods  from  the  barrier  gate, 
was  the  burying  ground;  it  was  filled  with  memorials  of 
the  mutability  of  human  life;  and  over  the  portals  of  the 


FORT    NIAGARA  III 

entrance  was  painted,  in  large  and  emphatic  characters,  the 
word  "  REST." 

It  is  generally  believed  that  some  of  the  distant  for 
tresses  of  France  were  often  converted  into  state  prisons, 
as  well  as  for  defensive  purposes.  There  was  much  about 
Fort  Niagara  to  establish  the  belief  that  it  had  been  used 
as  such.  The  dungeon  of  the  mess-house,  called  the  black 
hole,  was  a  strong,  dark,  and  dismal  place;  and  in  one  cor 
ner  of  the  room  was  fixed  the  apparatus  for  strangling  such 
unhappy  wretches  as  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  the 
despotic  rulers  of  those  days.  The  walls  of  this  dungeon, 
from  top  to  bottom,  had  engraved  upon  them  French 
names,  and  mementos  in  that  language.  That  the  prisoners 
were  no  common  persons  was  clear,  as  the  letters  and 
emblems  were  chiselled  out  in  good  style.  In  June,  1812, 
when  an  attack  was  momentarily  expected  upon  the  fort  by 
a  superior  British  force,  a  merchant,  resident  at  Fort  Ni 
agara,  deposited  some  valuable  articles  in  this  dungeon.  He 
took  occasion,  one  night,  to  visit  it  with  a  light;  he  exam 
ined  the  walls,  and  there,  among  hundreds  of  French  names, 
he  saw  his  own  family  name  engraved,  in  large  letters.  He 
took  no  notes,  and  has  no  recollection  of  the  other  names 
and  memorials;  he  intended  to  repeat  his  visit,  and  to  ex 
tend  his  examination,  but  other  avocations  caused  the  sub 
ject  to  be  neglected;  and  it  was  not  brought  to  mind  again 
until  late  years,  when  all  was  changed. 

In  further  corroboration  that  Fort  Niagara  had  wit 
nessed  scenes  of  guilt  and  foul  murder,  was  the  fact  that, 
in  1805,  it  became  necessary  to  clear  out  an  old  sink  at 
tached  to  the  mess-house.  The  bones  of  a  female  were 
found  therein,  evidently,  from  the  place  where  discovered, 
the  victim  of  some  atrocious  crime. 

There  were  many  legendary  stories  about  the  fort.  In 
the  centre  of  the  mess-house  was  a  well  of  water,  but,  it 


112  FORT   NIAGARA 

having  been  poisoned  by  some  of  the  former  occupants,  in 
latter  years  the  water  was  not  used;  and  it  was  a  story 
with  the  soldiers,  and  believed  by  the  superstitious,  that  at 
midnight  the  headless  trunk  of  a  French  general  officer  was 
often  seen  sitting  on  the  curb  of  the  old  well,  where  he 
had  been  murdered,  and  his  body  thrown  in;  and,  accord 
ing  to  dreamers  and  money-diggers,  large  treasures,  both  in 
gold  and  silver,  have  been  buried  in  many  of  the  nooks 
and  corners  of  the  old  fort.  Many  applications  used  to  be 
made  to  the  American  officers,  to  dig  for  money,  and  per 
sons  have  been  known  to  come  from  a  considerable  dis 
tance  for  that  purpose.  The  requests  were,  of  course, 
refused. 

Of  late  years,  matter  of  fact  has  been  more  strange  than 
romance.  William  Morgan  was  kidnapped  from  the  jail 
in  Canandaigua;  carried  in  a  post  coach,  undiscovered  and 
by  violence,  for  more  than  one  hundred  miles,  through  a 
populous  country;  the  perpetrators,  at  the  time,  unsus 
pected;  was  lodged  in  the  magazine  at  Fort  Niagara,  for 
three  or  four  days ;  and  then  was  never  more  seen.  He  was 
the  last  human  victim  offered  up  in  these  recesses  of  oppres 
sion  and  blood.  What  future  scenes  are  to  be  acted  in  this 
useless  and  ruinous  old  fort,  time  will  divulge. 

In  the  palmy  days  of  Fort  Niagara,  before  the  last  war 
with  England,  and  while  in  possession  of  the  United  States, 
the  commanding  officer  was  the  principal  man  in  the  sur 
rounding  country  for  many  miles,  and  the  lieutenants  and 
under  officers,  men  of  considerable  importance;  but  the 
show  and  eclat  of  military  command  have  vanished,  and 
the  farmer,  the  mechanic,  and  the  man  of  business,  fill, 
independently  and  respectably,  their  allotted  stations. 


THE   BRANDYWINE 
BENSON  JOHN   LOSSING 

ON  the  morning  of  the  nth  of  September,  the  day  of 
the  battle  on  the  Brandywine,  the  main  strength  of 
the  American  army  was  posted  on  the  heights  east  of  Chad's 
Ford,  and  commanding  that  passage  of  the  creek.  The 
brigades  of  Muhlenberg  and  Weeden,  which  composed 
Greene's  division,  occupied  a  position  directly  east  of  the 
ford;  Wayne's  division  and  Proctor's  artillery  were  posted 
upon  the  brow  of  an  eminence  near  Chad's  house,  imme 
diately  above  the  ford;  and  the  brigades  of  Sullivan,  Ster 
ling,  and  Stephen,  which  formed  the  right  wing,  extended 
some  distance  up  the  river,  on  the  left  of  the  main  body. 
At  Pyle's  Ford,  two  miles  below,  General  Armstrong  was 
posted  with  one  thousand  Pennsylvania  militia,  to  guard 
that  pass.  General  Maxwell,  with  about  one  thousand 
light  troops,  took  post  on  the  heights  upon  the  west  side 
of  the  river,  about  a  mile  from  Chad's  Ford,  to  dispute 
that  passage. 

At  daybreak,  the  column  under  Cornwallis  moved  along 
the  Lancaster  road,  which,  for  several  miles,  ran  nearly 
parallel  with  the  Brandywine.  General  Howe  was  with 
this  division.  Knyphausen  and  his  command  moved  for 
ward  at  nine  o'clock.  A  dense  fog  enshrouded  the  coun 
try,  and  the  scouting  parties  of  both  armies  often  came  in 
close  contact  before  they  were  aware  of  their  proximity. 
From  behind  the  walls  of  the  graveyard  of  the  Kennet 
meeting-house,  and  also  of  houses,  trees,  and  clumps  of 
bushes,  parties  of  militia  kept  up  an  annoying  fire  upon  the 

"3 


II4  THE   BRANDYWINE 

advancing  enemy.  Knyphausen,  however,  pushed  forward 
toward  Chad's  Ford.  He  sent  a  strong  advance  party  to 
dislodge  Maxwell.  They  met  at  about  ten  o'clock,  and  a 
severe  engagement  ensued.  Maxwell  was  driven  back  to 
the  verge  of  the  stream  at  the  ford,  where  he  was  re-enforced. 
Turning  upon  his  pursuers,  he  made  a  furious  charge.  The 
ranks  of  the  enemy  were  thrown  into  confusion,  and  fell 
back  upon  Knyphausen's  main  column.  Unable  to  cope 
with  Maxwell  in  open  battle  without  bringing  a  larger 
force  into  action,  Knyphausen  sent  a  detachment  through  the 
woods  to  make  an  attack  upon  his  flank.  Perceiving  this 
movement,  Maxwell  retreated  across  the  stream,  leaving 
the  whole  vast  bank  of  the  Brandywine  in  possession  of 
the  enemy. 

Knyphausen  now  brought  forward  his  ordnance,  and 
from  the  brow  of  the  hill  upon  the  west  side  of  the 
stream  he  kept  up  a  strong  cannonade  upon  the  Americans, 
without  attempting  to  cross.  The  fire  was  returned  with 
spirit  by  Proctor's  artillery.  Knyphausen  did  not  cross  the 
Brandywine,  because  he  was  instructed  by  Howe  to  amuse 
the  Americans  with  feigned  efforts  to  make  the  passage  of 
the  ford,  until  Cornwallis  should  cross  above,  and  gain  the 
right  and  rear  of  the  patriots.  This  accomplished,  Knyp 
hausen  was  directed  to  push  across  Chad's  Ford,  when  the 
two  divisions  of  the  royal  army  would  make  a  simultaneous 
attack.  During  these  manoeuvres  of  Knyphausen,  several 
detachments  of  the  Americans  crossed  the  river,  and  boldly 
attacked  his  flanking  parties  and  those  who  were  labouring 
to  throw  up  intrenchments.  Captains  Porterfield  and 
Waggoner  having  secured  a  footing  on  the  western  side, 
General  Maxwell  recrossed  the  stream  with  a  considerable 
force,  drove  the  enemy  from  the  ground,  killed  about  thirty 
men,  and  seized  a  quantity  of  intrenching  tools,  with  which 
they  were  constructing  a  battery.  Knyphausen  sent  an 


THE  BRANDYWINE 


THE   BRANDYWINE  115 

overwhelming  force  against  them,  which  soon  drove  the 
Americans  back  to  their  lines  on  the  east  side  of  the  river. 
General  Sullivan,  who  commanded  the  right  wing  of 
the  Americans,  was  ordered  to  guard  the  fords  as  high  up 
as  Buffington's,  just  above  the  forks  of  the  Brandy  wine. 
He  sent  scouting  parties  in  various  directions  to  observe  the 
movements  of  the  enemy.  Colonel  Moses  Hazen  was  sta 
tioned  with  a  considerable  force  at  Jones's  Ford.  Between 
nine  and  ten  in  the  morning,  Colonel  Theodoric  Bland, 
with  some  light  horse,  crossed  the  Brandywine  at  Jones's 
Ford,  and  discovered  a  portion  of  Cornwallis'  division 
marching  toward  the  west  branch,  at  Trimble's  Ford. 
Bland  despatched  a  messenger  to  Sullivan  with  the  infor 
mation,  which  was  confirmed  by  another  despatch  from 
Colonel  Ross  (dated  at  "  Great  Valley  road  at  eleven 
o'clock"),  who  was  in  the  rear  of  Cornwallis'  division, 
informing  Sullivan  that  "  five  thousand  men,  with  sixteen 
or  eighteen  field  pieces,  were  on  the  march  for  Taylor's 
and  Jefferies's  Fords."  Similar  intelligence  was  sent  by 
Colonel  Hazen.  These  accounts  reached  Washington,  from 
Sullivan,  between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock.  The  comman- 
der-in-chief  immediately  ordered  Sullivan  to  pass  the 
Brandywine  and  attack  Cornwallis,  while  he,  with  the 
main  division,  crossed,  and  engaged  Knyphausen  at  Chad's 
Ford.  General  Greene,  of  Washington's  division,  was  or* 
dered  to  cross  the  river  above  the  ford  and  gain  Knyp- 
hausen's  rear.  Before  these  several  movements  could  be 
executed,  counter  intelligence  was  received  by  Sullivan  from 
Major  Spear,  of  the  militia,  posted  upon  the  forks  of  the 
Brandywine,  who  informed  him  that  there  was  no  appear 
ance  of  an  enemy  in  that  quarter.  Spear's  information  was 
confirmed  by  Sergeant  Tucker,  who  had  been  sent  out  in 
that  direction  expressly  to  gain  information.  Relying  upon 
this  intelligence,  Sullivan  halted.  He  despatched  a  mes- 


Il6  THE   BRANDY  WINE 

senger  to  Washington  with  the  information,  and  the  medi 
tated  attack  upon  the  enemy  at  Chad's  Ford  was  aban 
doned.  Greene,  who  had  crossed  with  his  advanced  guard, 
was  recalled. 

While  Washington  was  thus  kept  in  suspense  by  con 
flicting  intelligence,  Cornwallis  gained  his  coveted  advan 
tage.  He  made  a  circuitous  march  of  seventeen  miles, 
keeping  beyond  the  American  patrols,  crossed  the  west 
branch  of  the  Brandywine  at  Trimble's  Ford,  and  the  east 
branch  at  Jefferis's,  and  gained  the  heights  near  the  Bir 
mingham  meeting-house,  within  two  miles  of  Sullivan's  right 
flank,  before  that  general  was  certain  that  Howe  and  Corn 
wallis  had  left  Kennet  Square !  This  apparent  want  of  vigi 
lance  on  the  part  of  his  patrols  drew  upon  Sullivan  the 
severest  censure  of  the  public.  Already  the  failure  of  an 
expedition  against  British  posts  on  Staten  Island,  under  his 
general  command,  had  biased  public  opinion  against  him; 
and  Congress,  wherein  Sullivan  had  several  active  enemies, 
had  directed  General  Washington  to  appoint  a  court  to 
investigate  the  matter.  The  disasters  which  occurred  on 
the  Brandywine  were  charged  to  Sullivan's  want  of  vigi 
lance,  energy,  and  skill,  and  he  was  held  responsible  for  the 
defeat  of  our  troops.  Even  his  honourable  acquittal,  by  a 
court-martial,  subsequently,  did  not  altogether  remove  from 
the  public  mind  a  distrust  of  his  ability  as  a  general  officer. 

When  Sullivan  was  assured,  by  a  note  from  Colonel 
Bland,  dated  at  "  quarter  past  one  o'clock,"  that  the  enemy 
were  in  great  force  on  Osborne's  Hill,  a  little  to  the  right 
of  the  Birmingham  meeting-house,  he  despatched  a  mes 
senger  to  Washington  with  the  intelligence,  and  marched 
immediately  to  oppose  the  enemy.  His  division  consisted 
of  his  own,  Sterling's,  and  Stephens'  brigades.  Upon  the 
gentle  slopes  near  the  Birmingham  meeting-house  he  began 
to  form  his  line  for  battle,  his  left  extending  toward  the 


THE   BRAND YWINE  117 

Brandywine.  It  was  an  advantageous  position,  for  both 
flanks  were  covered  by  thick  woods;  but,  in  consequence  of 
the  delay  in  waiting  the  return  of  the  messenger  with  orders 
from  the  commander-in-chief,  the  rough  and  broken  char 
acter  of  the  ground,  and  the  time  occupied  by  Sullivan  in 
making  a  wide  circuit  in  bringing  his  brigade  to  its  assigned 
place  in  the  line,  he  was  not  fully  prepared  for  action  when 
the  refreshed  and  well-formed  battalions  of  the  enemy, 
under  Cornwallis,  came  sweeping  on  from  Osborne's  Hill, 
and  commenced  a  furious  attack.  The  advanced  guard  were 
German  troops.  On  arriving  at  the  Street  road,  they  were 
fired  upon  by  a  company  of  Americans  stationed  in  an 
orchard  north  of  Samuel  Jones's  brick  dwelling-house.  The 
Hessians  returned  the  fire,  and  the  action  soon  became  gen 
eral.  The  artillery  of  both  armies  opened  with  terrible 
effect;  and  while  the  Americans  maintained  their  position, 
the  carnage  was  great.  The  most  indomitable  courage  was 
displayed,  and  for  a  while  the  result  was  doubtful.  The 
Americans,  many  of  them  unskilful  militia,  repelled  charge 
after  charge  of  the  well-disciplined  infantry,  chasseurs, 
grenadiers,  and  guards  of  the  enemy,  until  overwhelming 
numbers  obliged  them  to  yield.  The  right  wing  of  the 
Americans,  under  General  Deborre,  first  gave  way,  and 
the  left,  under  Sullivan,  soon  followed.  The  latter  officer 
used  every  exertion  to  rally  the  flying  troops,  but  in  vain. 
In  broken  fragments  they  fled  over  the  fields  toward  the 
main  division  of  the  army  at  Chad's  Ford.  The  centre 
division  (Stirling's  brigade),  in  which  was  General  Con- 
way,  with  eight  hundred  men,  yet  remained  firm  as  a  rock 
in  the  midst  of  the  wild  ocean  of  carnage.  To  this  divi 
sion  Sullivan  now  attached  himself,  and,  with  Stirling  and 
Lafayette,  engaged  personally  in  the  hottest  of  the  battle. 
To  this  point  Cornwallis  directed  his  energies.  His  artil 
lery  made  dreadful  breaches  in  their  ranks,  and  strewed 


Il8  THE    BRANDYWINE 

the  earth  with  the  slain.  Resistance  was  vain,  and,  when 
hope  no  longer  encouraged  the  contending  patriots  of  the 
centre,  they,  too,  wheeled,  and  joined  their  comrades  in 
their  flight.  Two  of  Sullivan's  aides  were  killed ;  and  La 
fayette,  who  had  leaped  from  his  horse,  and,  sword  in 
hand,  was  endeavouring  to  rally  the  yielding  patriots,  was 
wounded  in  the  leg  by  a  musket-ball,  and  fell.  Gimat,  his 
aide,  helped  him  on  a  horse,  and  he  escaped.  Despair 
seized  the  troops,  and  every  effort  to  rally  them  was,  for 
a  time,  vain.  They  fled  to  the  woods  in  the  rear,  pursued 
by  the  victorious  enemy.  Some  of  them  were  rallied  half 
a  mile  northward  of  Dilworth,  and  a  brief  encounter  en 
sued  between  the  fugitives  and  the  pursuing  party  of  the 
left  wing  of  the  enemy.  The  conflict  was  short,  and  the 
Americans  again  fled.  The  British  right  wing  got  en 
tangled  in  the  woods,  and  did  not  participate  in  the  subse 
quent  engagement,  when  Greene  checked  the  pursuers. 

On  receiving  intelligence  of  the  approach  of  the  British, 
Washington,  with  Greene's  division  of  Virginians  and 
Pennsylvanians,  pushed  forward  to  the  support  of  Sullivan, 
leaving  General  Wayne  at  Chad's  Ford  to  oppose  the  p;is- 
sage  of  Knyphausen.  When  the  first  cannon-peals  from 
the  Birmingham  meeting-house  broke  over  the  country, 
Greene  pressed  forward  to  the  support  of  the  right  wing. 
His  first  brigade,  under  General  Weedon,  took  the  lead, 
and  so  rapid  was  their  march  that  they  travelled  four 
miles  in  forty  minutes.  Between  Dilworth  and  the  meet 
ing-house  they  met  the  flying  Americans,  closely  pursued 
by  the  British.  Greene,  by  a  skillful  movement,  opened 
his  ranks  and  received  the  fugitives,  then,  closing  them 
again,  he  covered  their  retreat  and  checked  the  pursuers  by 
a  continual  fire  of  artillery.  At  a  narrow  defile  about  a 
mile  from  the  meeting-house,  in  the  direction  of  Chester, 
flanked  on  each  side  by  woods,  he  changed  his  front,  faced 


THE   BRANDYWINE  119 

the  enemy,  and  kept  them  at  bay  while  the  retreating  party 
rested  and  formed  in  his  rear.  Greene  defended  this  pass 
with  great  skill  and  bravery  until  twilight,  when  the  pur 
suers  encamped  for  the  night.  In  this  defence  the  brigades 
of  Weedon  and  Muhlenberg  were  greatly  distinguished, 
particularly  the  Tenth  Virginia  Regiment,  under  Colonel 
Stevens,  and  a  Pennsylvania  regiment,  under  Colonel 
Stewart. 

We  have  observed  that  the  plan  of  the  enemy  was  to 
attack  the  Americans  front  and  rear  at  the  same  time,  by 
Cornwallis  gaining  the  right  flank  of  the  patriots,  and 
Knyphausen  crossing  the  Brandywine  at  Chad's  Ford.  The 
firing  of  heavy  guns  on  the  American  right  was  to  be  the 
signal  for  the  German  general  to  ford  the  stream.  When 
the  firing  commenced  at  the  Birmingham  meeting-house, 
Knyphausen  observed  the  departure  of  Greene's  division, 
and  the  consequent  weakening  of  the  defence  of  the  pas 
sage  of  the  river.  He  immediately  made  a  proper  disposi 
tion  of  his  troops  for  crossing.  Wayne  was  on  the  alert, 
and,  the  moment  Knyphausen's  forces  moved  forward,  he 
opened  upon  him  a  heavy  fire  of  artillery  from  his  intrench- 
ments  and  the  battery  near  Chad's  house.  Although  in  no 
condition  to  oppose  nearly  one-half  of  the  British  army,  he 
stood  firm  at  first,  and  gallantly  confronted  the  heavy  and 
steadily  progressing  columns.  But  on  receiving  intelligence 
of  the  defeat  of  Sullivan  at  Birmingham  meeting-house,  and 
discovering  that  a  considerable  force  of  the  enemy,  who  had 
penetrated  the  woods,  were  coming  out  upon  his  flank, 
Wayne  ordered  a  retreat.  This  was  accomplished  in  great 
disorder,  leaving  his  artillery  and  munitions  of  war  in  the 
hands  of  Knyphausen.  They  retreated,  in  broken  columns 
and  confused  fragments,  behind  the  division  of  General 
Greene,  then  gallantly  defending  the  pass  near  Dilworth, 
and  joined  the  other  defeated  troops.  The  approach  of 


120  THE   BRANDYWINE 

night  ended  the  whole  conflict.  The  Americans  retreated 
to  Chester  that  night,  where  they  rendezvoused,  and  the 
next  day  marched  toward  Philadelphia,  and  encamped  near 
Germantown.  General  Armstrong,  who  was  stationed  at 
Pyle's  Ford,  had  no  opportunity  to  engage  in  the  action. 
The  British  remained  upon  the  field,  near  Dilworth,  Howe 
taking  up  his  quarters  at  Gilpin's,  a  few  miles  from  Chad's 
Ford. 

Military  men,  when  considering  the  battle  of  Brandy- 
wine,  have  questioned  the  judgment  of  Washington  in 
incurring  the  great  risk  incident  to  a  disparity  in  numbers 
and  discipline.  The  numbers  engaged  in  the  action  have 
never  been  accurately  ascertained.  The  British  effective 
force,  on  the  day  of  the  battle,  was  probably  not  less  than 
seventeen  thousand  men,  while  that  of  the  Americans  did 
not  exceed  eleven  thousand,  and  many  of  these  were  raw 
militia.  Washington  was  aware  of  the  expectations  of 
Congress  and  the  whole  country,  and  wisely  considered  that 
a  defeat  in  battle  would  be  less  depressing  upon  the  minds 
of  the  soldiers  and  the  people,  than  permitting  the  enemy 
to  march,  without  opposition,  to  the  capture  of  Philadel 
phia,  then  the  political  metropolis  of  America.  Influenced 
by  these  considerations,  he  resolved  to  fight  the  enemy;  and 
had  not  conflicting  intelligence  perplexed  and  thwarted  him 
in  his  plans,  it  is  probable  that  victory  would  have  crowned 
the  American  army.  The  result  was  disastrous,  and  many 
noble  patriots  slept  their  last  sleep  upon  the  battlefield  that 
night. 


THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 
JARED   SPARKS 

THE  first  Europeans  who  are  certainly  known  to 
have  discovered  and  explored  this  river,  were  two 
Frenchmen,  Father  Marquette  and  M.  Joliet,  in  the  year 
1673.  Marquette  was  a  native  of  Picardy,  and  Charle- 
voix  calls  him  "  one  of  the  most  illustrious  missionaries  of 
New  France,"  adding  that  he  travelled  widely,  and  made 
many  discoveries  besides  that  of  the  Mississippi.  He  had 
resided  some  time  in  Canada,  and  attained  a  proficiency  in 
the  languages  of  the  principal  native  tribes,  who  resided  in 
the  regions  bordering  on  the  Upper  Lakes.  The  first  set 
tlement  of  the  old  town  of  Michillimackinac,  in  1671,  is 
ascribed  to  his  exertions  and  influences. 

The  Indians  had  given  many  accounts  of  a  great  river  at 
the  West,  which  flowed  southwardly,  and  which  they  called 
Mississipy,  as  the  word  is  written  by  Marquette.  It  be 
came  a  matter  of  curious  speculation,  what  course  the  river 
pursued,  and  at  what  place  it  disembouged  itself  into  the 
sea.  There  were  three  opinions  on  this  subject.  First,  that 
it  ran  towards  the  southwest,  and  entered  the  Gulf  of  Cali 
fornia;  secondly,  that  it  flowed  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico; 
and  thirdly,  that  it  found  its  way  in  a  more  easterly  direc 
tion,  and  discharged  itself  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean  some 
where  on  the  coast  of  Virginia.  The  question  was  not  less 
important  in  a  commercial  and  political  view,  than  inter 
esting  as  a  geographical  problem. 

To  establish  this  point,  and  to  make  such  other  dis 
coveries  as  opportunities  would  admit,  M.  de  Frontenac, 

121 


122  THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 

the  Governor  of  Canada,  encouraged  an  expedition  to  be 
undertaken.  The  persons  to  whom  it  was  intrusted  were 
M.  Joliet,  then  residing  at  Quebec,  and  Father  Marquette, 
who  was  at  Michillimackinac,  or  in  the  vicinity  of  that 
place.  Marquette  wrote  an  account  of  his  tour  and  voy 
age  down  the  Mississippi,  which  was  sent  to  France,  and 
published  eight  years  afterwards  in  Paris.  From  this  ac 
count  the  following  particulars  are  chiefly  taken.  In  some 
parts  the  translation  is  nearly  literal,  and  all  the  prominent 
facts  are  retained. 

On  the  1 3th  of  May,  1673,  Father  Marquette  and  M. 
Joliet,  with  five  other  Frenchmen,  embarked  in  two  canoes, 
with  a  small  provision  of  Indian  corn  and  smoked  meat, 
having  previously  acquired  from  the  Indians  all  the  intel 
ligence  they  could  afford  respecting  their  proposed  route. 

The  first  nation  through  which  they  passed,  was  the 
Folles  Avoines  (Wild  Rice),  so  called  from  the  grain  of 
that  name,  which  abounds  in  the  rivers  and  marshy  lands. 
This  plant  is  described  as  growing  about  two  feet  above 
the  water,  resembling  European  oats,  and  gathered  by  the 
savages  during  the  month  of  September.  The  ears  are 
dried,  separated  from  the  chaff,  and  prepared  for  food 
either  by  pounding  into  meal,  or  simply  boiling  the  grain 
in  water. 

The  natives,  having  been  made  acquainted  by  Father 
Marquette  with  his  design  of  visiting  the  most  remote 
nations  and  preaching  to  them  the  Gospel,  did  their  utmost 
to  dissuade  him  from  it,  representing  the  cruelty  of  some 
of  the  tribes,  and  their  warlike  state,  the  dangerous  naviga 
tion  of  the  river,  the  dreadful  monsters  that  were  found 
in  it,  and,  finally,  the  excessive  heat  of  the  climate. 

He  thanked  them  for  their  good  advice,  but  declined 
following  it;  assuring  them  that,  to  secure  the  success  of 
his  undertaking,  he  would  gladly  give  his  life;  that  he  felt 


THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER  123 

no  fear  of  the  monsters  they  described;  and  that  their 
information  would  only  oblige  him  to  keep  more  on  his 
guard  against  surprise.  After  having  prayed,  and  given 
them  some  instructions,  he  parted  from  them,  and  arrived 
at  the  Bay  of  Puans,  now  called  Green  Bay,  where  consid 
erable  progress  had  been  made  by  the  French  priests  in  the 
conversion  of  the  Indians. 

The  name  of  this  bay  has  a  less  unpleasant  meaning  in 
the  Indian,  than  in  the  French  language,  signifying  also 
salt  bay,  which  induced  Father  Marquette  to  make  strict 
researches  for  salt  springs  in  this  vicinity,  but  without  suc 
cess.  He  concluded,  therefore,  that  the  name  was  given  to 
it  in  consequence  of  the  ooze  and  mud,  deposited  there, 
from  whence,  as  he  thought,  arise  vapours  that  produce 
frequent  and  violent  thunder-storms.  He  speaks  of  this  bay 
as  about  thirty  leagues  long,  and  eight  leagues  wide  at  its 
entrance,  gradually  contracting  towards  its  head,  where  the 
flux  and  reflux  of  the  tides,  much  like  those  of  the  sea, 
may  be  easily  observed. 

Leaving  this  bay,  they  ascended  the  river,  since  known 
as  Fox  River,  that  empties  into  it.  At  its  mouth,  he  says, 
the  river  is  broad  and  deep,  and  flows  gently;  but,  as  you 
advance,  its  course  is  interrupted  by  rapids  and  rocks;  which 
he  passed,  however,  in  safety.  It  abounds  with  bustards, 
ducks,  and  teal,  attracted  by  the  wild  rice,  which  grows 
there.  Approaching  the  village  of  Maskoutins,  or  Nation 
of  Fire,  he  had  the  curiosity  to  taste  the  mineral  water  of 
a  stream  in  its  vicinity.  The  village  consisted  of  three 
several  nations,  namely,  Miamis,  Maskoutins,  and  Kika- 
beaux.  The  first  were  the  most  friendly  and  liberal,  and 
the  finest-looking  men.  Their  hair  was  long  over  their 
ears.  They  were  good  warriors,  sucessful  in  their  expedi 
tions,  docile,  and  fond  of  instruction.  They  were  so  eager 
to  listen  to  Father  Allonezo,  when  he  was  among  them,  that 


124  THE   MISSISSIPPI   RIVER 

they  allowed  him  no  repose,  even  in  the  night.  The  Mas- 
kontins  and  Kikabeaux  were  coarser,  and  less  civilized; 
their  wigwams  were  constructed  of  rushes  (birch  bark 
being  scarce  in  this  country),  and  might  be  rolled  up  in 
bundles  and  carried  where  they  pleased. 

In  visiting  these  people,  Father  Marquette  was  much 
gratified  at  seeing  a  large  cross  erected  in  the  centre  of  the 
village,  decorated  with  thank  offerings  to  the  Great  Spirit, 
for  their  success  during  the  last  winter.  The  situation  of 
the  village  was  striking  and  beautiful,  it  being  built  on  an 
eminence,  whence  the  eye  overlooked  on  all  sides  a  bound 
less  extent  of  prairie,  interspersed  with  groves  and  forests. 
The  soil  was  good,  producing  abundantly  Indian  corn, 
grapes,  and  plums. 

Immediately  on  their  arrival,  Father  Marquette  and  M. 
Joliet  assembled  the  chiefs,  and  explained  to  them  the  ob 
jects  of  their  expedition,  expressing  their  determination  to 
proceed  at  all  risks,  and  making  them  some  presents.  They 
requested  the  assistance  of  two  guides,  to  put  them  in  their 
way;  which  request  the  natives  readily  granted,  returning 
for  their  presents  a  mat,  which  served  them  as  a  bed  dur 
ing  the  voyage.  The  next  day,  being  the  loth  of  June,  the 
two  Miamis,  their  guides,  embarked  with  them  in  sight  of 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  village,  who  looked  with  aston 
ishment  on  the  hardihood  of  seven  Frenchmen  in  under 
taking  such  an  expedition. 

They  knew  that  within  three  leagues  of  the  Maskoutins 
was  a  river  which  discharged  itself  into  the  Mississippi; 
and  further,  that  their  course  must  be  west  southwest;  but 
so  many  marshes  and  small  lakes  intervened,  that  the  route 
was  intricate;  the  more  so,  as  the  river  was  overgrown 
with  wild  rice,  which  obstructed  the  channel  to  such  a 
degree  that  it  was  difficult  to  follow  it.  On  this  account 
their  guides  were  necessary,  who  conducted  them  safely  to 


THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER  125 

a  portage,  which  was  about  two  thousand  seven  hundred 
paces  across.  The  guides  aided  them  in  transporting  their 
canoes  over  the  portage  to  the  river,  which  ran  towards  the 
west,  and  then  they  left  them  and  returned. 

The  travellers  quitted  the  waters,  which  flow  towards 
Quebec,  five  or  six  hundred  leagues  from  that  place,  and 
embarked  on  an  unknown  stream.  This  river  was  called 
Mesconsin  (Wisconsin).  It  was  very  broad,  but  its  bot 
tom  was  sandy,  and  the  navigation  was  rendered  difficult  by 
the  shoals.  It  was  full  of  islands,  overgrown  with  vines; 
and  the  fertile  banks  through  which  it  flowed  were  inter 
spersed  with  woods,  prairies,  and  groves  of  nut,  oak,  and 
other  trees.  Numbers  of  bucks  and  buffaloes  were  seen, 
but  no  other  animals.  Within  thirty  leagues  of  their  place 
of  embarkation,  they  found  iron  mines,  which  appeared 
abundant  and  of  good  quality.  After  continuing  their 
route  for  forty  leagues,  they  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river,  in  forty-two  degrees  and  a  half  of  latitude;  and  on 
the  i  yth  of  June,  they  entered  with  great  joy  the  waters 
of  the  Mississippi. 

This  river  derives  its  source  from  several  lakes  in  the 
north.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Mesconsin  its  channel  was 
narrow,  and  it  flowed  onwards  with  a  gentle  current.  On 
the  right  was  seen  a  chain  of  high  mountains,  and  on  the  left 
fertile  fields  interrupted  by  islands  in  many  places.  They 
slowly  followed  the  course  of  the  stream  to  the  south  and 
southwest,  until,  in  forty- two  degrees  of  latitude,  they  per 
ceived  a  sensible  change  in  the  surrounding  country.  There 
were  but  few  hills  and  forests.  The  islands  were  covered 
with  beautiful  trees. 

From  the  time  of  leaving  their  guides,  they  descended 
the  two  rivers  more  than  one  hundred  leagues,  without 
discovering  any  other  inhabitants  of  the  forests,  than  birds 
and  beasts.  They  were  always  on  their  guard,  kindling  a 


126  THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 

fire  on  the  shore  towards  evening,  to  cook  their  food,  and 
afterwards  anchoring  their  canoes  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream  during  the  night.  They  proceeded  thus  for  more 
than  sixty  leagues  from  the  place  where  they  entered  the 
Mississippi,  when,  on  the  25th  of  June,  they  perceived  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  the  footsteps  of  men,  and  a  well- 
beaten  path  leading  into  a  beautiful  prairie.  They  landed, 
and,  leaving  the  canoes  under  the  guard  of  their  boatmen, 
Father  Marquette  and  M.  Joliet  set  forth  to  make  discov 
eries.  After  silently  following  the  path  for  about  two 
leagues,  they  perceived  a  village,  situate  on  the  margin  of 
a  river,  and  two  others  on  a  hill,  within  half  a  league  of 
the  first.  As  they  approached  nearer  they  gave  notice  of 
their  arrival  by  a  loud  call.  Hearing  the  noise,  the  Indians 
came  out  of  their  cabins,  and,  having  looked  at  the  strangers 
for  a  while,  they  deputed  four  of  their  elders  to  talk  with 
them,  who  slowly  advanced.  Two  of  them  brought  pipes 
ornamented  with  feathers,  which,  without  speaking,  they 
elevated  towards  the  sun,  as  a  token  of  friendship.  Gain 
ing  assurance  from  this  ceremony,  Father  Marquette  ad 
dressed  them,  inquiring  of  what  nation  they  were.  They 
answered  that  they  were  Illinois,  and,  offering  their  pipes, 
invited  the  strangers  to  enter  the  village,  where  they  were 
received  with  every  mark  of  attention,  conducted  to  the 
cabin  of  the  chief,  and  complimented  on  their  arrival  by 
the  natives,  who  gathered  round  them,  gazing  in  silence. 

After  they  were  seated,  the  calumet  was  presented  to 
them,  and,  while  the  old  men  were  smoking  for  their  enter 
tainment,  the  chief  of  all  the  Illinois  tribes  sent  them  an 
invitation  to  attend  a  council  at  his  village.  They  were 
treated  by  him  with  great  kindness,  and  Father  Marquette, 
having  explained  to  him  the  motives  of  this  voyage,  en 
forcing  each  part  of  his  speeech  with  a  present,  the  chief  in 
reply  expressed  his  approbation;  but  urged  him,  in  the  name 


THE    MISSISSIPPI    RIVER  127 

of  the  whole  nation,  not  to  incur  the  risks  of  a  further 
voyage,  and  rewarded  his  presents  by  the  gift  of  a  calumet. 

The  council  was  followed  by  a  feast,  consisting  of  four 
courses,  from  each  of  which  they  were  fed  with  much  cere 
mony;  and  afterwards  they  were  conducted  in  state  through 
the  village,  receiving  many  presents  of  girdles  and  garters 
from  the  natives.  The  following  day  they  took  leave  of 
the  chief,  promising  to  return  in  four  moons,  and  were 
accompanied  to  their  canoes,  with  every  demonstration  of 
joy,  by  more  than  six  hundred  savages. 

Before  leaving  this  nation,  Father  Marquette  remarked 
some  of  their  peculiarities.  The  name  Illinois,  in  the  na 
tive  language,  signifies  men,  as  if  implying  thereby,  that 
other  tribes  are  brutes  in  comparison,  which  in  some  sense 
Father  Marquette  thought  to  be  true,  as  they  were  more 
civilized  than  most  of  the  tribes.  Their  language,  on  the 
borders  of  the  river,  was  a  dialect  of  the  Algonquin,  and 
was  understood  by  Father  Marquette.  In  the  form  of 
their  bodies  the  Illinois  were  light  and  active.  They  were 
skilful  in  the  use  of  arms,  brave,  but  wild  and  tractable  in 
disposition.  They  were  entirely  ignorant  of  the  use  of 
leather,  and  iron  tools,  their  weapons  being  made  of  stone, 
and  their  clothing  of  the  skins  of  wild  beasts.  The  soil 
was  rich  and  productive,  and  game  abundant. 

After  this  peaceful  interview  with  the  natives,  the  voy 
agers  embarked  again,  and  passed  down  the  stream,  looking 
out  for  the  river  Pekitanoni  (Missouri),  which  empties  into 
the  Mississippi  from  the  northwest.  They  observed  high 
and  steep  rocks,  on  the  face  of  which  were  the  figures  of 
two  monsters,  which  appeared  as  if  painted  in  green,  red, 
and  blue  colours;  frightful  in  appearance,  but  so  well  exe 
cuted  as  to  leave  Father  Marquette  in  doubt  whether  they 
could  be  the  work  of  savages,  they  being  also  at  so  great  a 
height  on  the  rocks  as  to  be  inaccessible  to  a  painter. 


128  THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 

As  they  floated  quietly  down  a  clear  and  placid  stream, 
conversing  about  the  figures  they  had  just  passed,  they 
were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  rapids  before  them;  and  a 
mass  of  floating  timber,  trunks  and  branches  of  trees,  was 
swept  from  the  mouth  of  the  Pekitanoni  with  such  a  degree 
of  violence,  as  to  render  the  passage  dangerous.  So  great 
was  the  agitation,  that  the  water  was  thereby  made  very 
muddy,  and  it  did  not  again  become  clear.  The  Pekitanoni 
is  described  as  a  large  river  flowing  into  the  Mississippi 
from  the  northwest,  with  several  villages  on  its  banks. 

At  this  place  Father  Marquette  decided,  that  unless  the 
Mississippi  altered  its  previous  course  it  must  empty  its 
waters  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico;  and  he  conjectured  from 
the  accounts  of  the  natives  that,  by  following  the  stream 
of  the  Pekitanoni,  a  river  would  be  discovered,  which 
flowed  into  the  Gulf  of  California. 

About  twenty  leagues  south  of  the  Pekitanoni,  and  a 
little  more  to  the  southeast,  they  discovered  the  mouth  of 
another  river,  called  Ouabouskigou  (Ohio),  in  the  lati 
tude  of  thirty-six  degrees;  a  short  distance  above  which, 
they  came  to  a  place  formidable  to  the  savages,  who,  believ 
ing  it  the  residence  of  a  demon,  had  warned  Father  Mar 
quette  of  its  dangers.  It  proved  nothing  more  than  a  ledge 
of  rocks,  thirty  feet  high,  against  which  the  waves,  being 
contracted  by  an  island,  ran  with  violence,  and,  being 
thrown  back  with  a  loud  noise,  flowed  rapidly  on  through 
a  narrow  and  unsafe  channel. 

The  Ouabouskigou  came  from  the  eastward,  where  the 
country  was  thickly  inhabited  by  the  tribe  of  Chuouanons, 
a  harmless  and  peaceful  people,  much  annoyed  by  the  Iro- 
quois,  who  were  said  to  capture  them  as  slaves,  and  kill  and 
torture  them  cruelly. 

A  little  above  the  entrance  of  this  river  were  steep  banks, 
in  which  the  boatmen  discovered  iron  ore,  several  veins  of 


THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER  129 

which  were  visible,  about  a  foot  in  thickness,  portions  of  it 
adhering  to  the  flint-stones;  and  also  a  species  of  rich  earth, 
of  three  different  colours,  namely,  purple,  violet,  and  red, 
and  a  very  heavy  red  sand,  some  of  which,  being  laid  on 
an  oar,  left  a  stain  during  fifteen  days.  They  here  first 
saw  tall  reeds,  or  canes,  growing  on  the  shores,  and  began 
to  find  the  maringouins  (mosquitoes)  very  troublesome;  the 
attacks  of  which,  with  the  heat  of  the  weather,  obliged  the 
voyagers  to  construct  an  awning  of  the  sails  of  their 
canoes. 

Shortly  afterwards  they  saw  savages  armed  with  muskets, 
waiting  their  approach  on  the  bank  of  the  river.  While 
the  boatmen  prepared  for  a  defence,  Father  Marquette 
presented  his  calumet,  and  addressed  them  in  Huron,  to 
which  they  gave  no  answer,  but  made  signals  to  them  to 
land,  and  accept  some  food.  They  consequently  disem 
barked,  and,  entering  their  cabins,  were  presented  with 
buffalo's  meat,  bear's  oil,  and  fine  plums.  These  savages 
had  guns,  hatchets,  knives,  hoes,  and  glass  bottles  for  their 
gunpowder.  They  informed  Father  Marquette  that  he 
was  within  ten  days'  journey  of  the  sea;  that  they  pur 
chased  their  goods  of  Europeans,  who  came  from  the  east; 
that  these  Europeans  had  images  and  beads,  played  on  many 
instruments,  and  were  dressed  like  himself;  and  that  they 
had  treated  them  with  much  kindness.  As  they  had  no 
knowledge  of  Christianity,  the  worthy  Father  gave  them 
what  instruction  he  could,  and  made  them  a  present  of 
some  medals.  Encouraged  by  the  information  received 
from  these  savages,  the  party  proceeded  with  renewed  ar 
dour  on  their  voyage,  between  banks  covered  with  thick 
forests,  that  intercepted  their  view  of  the  prairies;  in  which, 
however,  they  heard  at  no  great  distance  the  bellowing  of 
buffaloes.  They  also  saw  quails  upon  the  shores,  and  shot 
a  small  parrot. 


I3o  THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 

They  had  nearly  reached  the  thirty-third  degree  of  lati 
tude,  steering  towards  the  south,  when  they  discovered  a 
village  on  the  river's  side,  called  Metchigamea.  The  na 
tives,  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  clubs,  and  tomahawks, 
prepared  to  attack  them;  some  in  canoes,  trying  to  inter 
cept  their  course,  others  remaining  on  shore.  Father  Mar- 
quette  in  vain  presented  his  calumet  of  peace.  They  were 
ready  to  attack,  when  the  elders,  perceiving  at  last  the 
calumet,  commanded  the  young  warriors  to  stop,  and, 
throwing  their  arms  at  the  feet  of  the  strangers,  as  a  sign 
of  peace,  entered  their  canoes,  and  constrained  them  to 
land,  though  not  without  some  uneasiness. 

As  the  savages  were  not  acquainted  with  any  of  the  six 
languages  spoken  by  Father  Marquette,  he  addressed  them 
by  signs,  until  an  old  man  was  found  who  understood  a 
little  Illinois.  Through  this  interpreter,  he  explained  their 
intention  of  going  to  the  borders  of  the  sea,  and  gave  the 
natives  some  religious  instruction.  In  reply  they  answered, 
that  whatever  information  he  desired  might  be  obtained  at 
Akamsca  (Arkansas),  a  village  ten  leagues  lower  down 
the  river;  and  presented  them  with  food.  After  passing  a 
night  of  some  anxiety,  they  embarked  the  following  morn 
ing  with  the  interpreter;  a  canoe  with  ten  savages  preced 
ing  them.  About  half  a  league  from  Akamsca,  they  were 
met  by  two  canoes  full  of  Indians,  the  chief  of  whom  pre 
sented  his  calumet,  and  conducted  them  to  the  shore,  where 
they  were  hospitably  received  and  supplied  with  provisions. 
Here  they  found  a  young  man  well  acquainted  with  the 
Illinois  language,  and  through  him  Father  Marquette  ad 
dressed  the  natives,  making  them  the  usual  presents,  and 
requesting  information  from  them  respecting  the  sea.  They 
answered,  that  it  was  within  five  days'  journey  of  Akamsca; 
that  they  knew  nothing  of  the  inhabitants  on  its  borders, 
being  prevented  by  their  enemies  from  holding  intercourse 


THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER  131 

with  these  Europeans;  that  their  knives  and  other  weapons 
were  purchased  partly  from  the  eastern  nations,  and  partly 
from  a  tribe  of  Illinois,  four  days'  journey  to  the  eastward; 
that  the  armed  savages,  whom  the  travellers  had  met,  were 
their  enemies;  that  they  were  continually  on  the  river  be 
tween  that  place  and  the  sea;  and  that,  if  the  voyagers  pro 
ceeded  further,  great  danger  might  be  apprehended  from 
them.  After  this  communication,  food  was  offered,  and  the 
rest  of  the  day  was  spent  in  feasting. 

These  people  were  friendly  and  hospitable,  but  poor, 
although  their  Indian  corn  produced  three  abundant  crops 
in  a  year,  which  Father  Marquette  saw  in  its  different 
stages  of  growth.  It  was  prepared  for  food  in  pots,  which, 
with  plates  and  other  utensils,  were  neatly  made  of  baked 
earth  by  the  Indians.  Their  language  was  so  very  diffi 
cult,  that  Father  Marquette  despaired  of  being  able  to  pro 
nounce  a  word  of  it.  Their  climate  in  winter  was  rainy, 
but  they  had  no  snow,  and  the  soil  was  extremely  fertile. 

During  the  evening  the  old  men  held  a  secret  council. 
Some  of  them  proposed  to  murder  the  strangers,  and  seize 
their  effects.  The  chief,  however,  overruled  this  advice, 
and,  sending  for  Father  Marquette  and  M.  Joliet,  invited 
them  to  attend  a  dance  of  the  calumet,  which  he  after 
wards  presented  to  them  as  a  sign  of  peace. 

The  good  Father  and  his  companion  began  now  to  con 
sider  what  further  course  they  should  pursue.  As  it  was 
supposed  that  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  extended  as  far  north 
as  thirty-one  degrees  and  forty  minutes,  they  believed  them 
selves  not  to  be  more  than  two  or  three  days'  journey  from 
it;  and  it  appeared  to  them  certain  that  the  Mississippi 
must  empty  itself  into  that  gulf,  and  not  into  the  sea 
through  Virginia,  at  the  eastward,  because  the  coast  of 
Virginia  was  in  the  latitude  of  thirty-four  degrees,  at  which 
they  had  already  arrived;  nor  yet  into  the  Gulf  of  Cali- 


I32  THE   MISSISSIPPI    RIVER 

fornia,  at  the  southwest,  because  they  had  found  the  course 
of  the  river  to  be  invariably  south.  Being  thus  persuaded 
that  the  main  object  of  their  expedition  was  attained,  and 
considering,  moreover,  that  they  were  unable  to  resist  the 
armed  savages,  who  infested  the  lower  parts  of  the  river, 
and  that,  should  they  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards, 
the  fruits  of  their  voyage  and  discoveries  would  be  lost, 
they  resolved  to  proceed  no  further,  and,  having  informed 
the  natives  of  their  determination,  and  rested  another  day, 
they  prepared  for  their  return. 

After  a  month's  navigation  on  the  Mississippi,  having 
followed  its  course  from  the  forty-second  to  the  thirty- 
fourth  degree  of  latitude,  they  left  the  village  of  Akamsca, 
on  the  1 7th  of  July,  to  return  up  the  river.  They  retraced 
their  way,  slowly  ascending  the  stream,  until,  in  about  the 
thirty-eighth  degree  of  latitude,  they  turned  into  another 
river  (Illinois),  which  abridged  their  route  and  brought 
them  directly  to  Lake  Illinois  (Michigan).  They  were 
struck  with  the  fertility  of  the  country  through  which  that 
river  flowed,  the  beauty  of  the  forests  and  prairies,  the 
variety  of  the  game,  and  the  numerous  small  lakes  and 
streams  which  they  saw.  The  river  was  broad  and  deep, 
and  navigable  for  sixty-five  leagues,  there  being,  in  the 
season  of  spring  and  part  of  the  summer,  only  half  a 
league  of  portage  between  its  waters  and  those  flowing  into 
Lake  Illinois.  On  its  banks  they  found  a  village,  the  in 
habitants  of  which  received  them  kindly,  and,  on  their  de 
parture,  extorted  a  promise  from  Father  Marquette  to  re 
turn  and  instruct  them.  One  of  the  chiefs,  accompanied 
by  the  young  men,  conducted  them  as  far  as  the  Lake; 
whence  they  proceeded  to  the  Bay  of  Puans,  where  they 
arrived  near  the  end  of  September,  having  been  absent 
about  four  months. 

Such  is  the  substance  of  Father  Marquette's  narrative; 


THE  MISSISSIPPI   RIVER  133 

and  the  whole  of  it  accords  remarkably  with  the  descrip 
tions  of  subsequent  travellers,  and  with  the  actual  features 
of  the  country  through  which  he  passed,  as  to  remove  every 
doubt  of  its  genuineness.  The  melancholy  fate  of  the 
author,  which  followed  soon  afterwards,  was  probably  the 
reason  why  his  expedition  was  not  in  a  more  conspicuous 
manner  brought  before  the  public. 

In  addition  to  this  narrative,  nothing  is  known  of  Mar- 
quette,  except  what  is  said  of  him  by  Charlevoix.  After 
returning  from  his  last  expedition,  he  took  up  his  residence, 
and  pursued  the  vocation  of  a  missionary,  among  the  Mi- 
amis  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Chicago.  While  passing  by 
water  along  the  eastern  shore  of  Lake  Michigan  towards 
Michillimackinac,  he  entered  a  small  river,  on  the  i8th 
of  May,  1675.  Having  landed,  he  constructed  an  altar, 
performed  mass,  and  then  retired  a  short  distance  into  the 
wood,  requesting  the  two  men  who  had  charge  of  his 
canoe,  to  leave  him  alone  for  half  an  hour.  When  the 
time  had  elapsed,  the  men  went  to  seek  for  him  and  found 
him  dead.  They  were  greatly  surprised,  as  they  had  not 
discovered  any  symptoms  of  illness;  but  they  remembered, 
that,  when  he  was  entering  the  river,  he  expressed  a  presen 
timent  that  his  voyage  would  end  there.  To  this  day  the 
river  retains  the  name  of  Marquette.  The  place  of  his 
grave,  near  its  bank,  is  still  pointed  out  to  the  traveller; 
but  his  remains  were  removed  the  year  after  his  death  to 
M  ichillimackinac. 


CHICAGO 

GEORGE  W.   STEEVENS 

/CHICAGO!  Chicago!  queen  and  guttersnipe  of  cities, 
^^  cynosure  and  cesspool  of  the  world!  Not  if  I  had  a 
hundred  tongues,  every  one  shouting  a  different  language 
in  a  different  key,  could  I  do  justice  to  her  splendid  chaos. 
The  most  beautiful  and  the  most  squalid,  girdled  with  a  two 
fold  zone  of  parks  and  slums,  where  the  keen  air  from  lake 
and  prairie  is  ever  in  the  nostrils  and  the  stench  of  foul 
smoke  is  never  out  of  the  throat;  the  great  port  a  thousand 
miles  from  the  sea;  the  great  mart  which  gathers  up  with 
one  hand  the  corn  and  cattle  of  the  West  and  deals  out  with 
the  other  the  merchandise  of  the  East;  widely  and  gener 
ously  planned  with  streets  of  twenty  miles,  where  it  is 
not  safe  to  walk  at  night;  where  women  ride  straddlewise, 
and  millionaires  dine  at  midday  on  the  Sabbath;  the  chosen 
seat  of  public  spirit  and  municipal  boodle,  of  cut-throat  com 
merce  and  munificent  patronage  of  art;  the  most  American 
of  American  cities,  and  yet  the  most  mongrel;  the  second 
American  city  of  the  globe,  the  fifth  German  city,  the  third, 
Swedish,  the  second  Polish,  the  first  and  only  veritable  Babel 
of  the  age;  all  of  which  was  in  1871  a  heap  of  smoking  ashes. 
Where  in  all  the  world  can  words  be  found  for  this  miracle 
of  paradox  and  incongruity? 

Go  first  up  on  the  tower  of  the  Auditorium.  In  front, 
near  three  hundred  feet  below,  lies  Lake  Michigan.  There 
are  lines  of  breakwater  and  a  lighthouse  inshore,  where  the 
water  is  grey  and  brown,  but  beyond  and  on  either  hand 
to  the  rim  spreads  the  brilliant  azure  of  deep  water — the 


- 


MADISON   STREET   FROM   FIFTH   AVENUE,   CHICAGO 


CHICAGO  135 

bosom  of  a  lake  which  is  also  a  sea  shining  in  the  transparent 
sunlight.  White  sails  speckle  its  surface,  and  far  out  ocean 
going  steamers  trail  lazy  streaks  of  smoke  behind  them. 
From  the  lake  blow  winds  now  soft  and  life-giving  like  old 
wine,  now  so  keen  as  to  set  every  nerve  and  sinew  on  the 
stretch.  Then  turn  round  and  look  at  Chicago.  You  might 
be  on  a  central  peak  of  the  high  Alps.  All  about  you  they 
rise,  the  mountains  of  building — not  in  the  broken  line  of 
New  York,  but  thick  together,  side  by  side,  one  behind  the 
other.  From  this  height  the  flat  roofs  of  the  ordinary  build 
ings  of  four  or  five  storeys  are  not  distinguishable  from  the 
ground ;  planting  their  feet  on  these  rise  the  serried  ranks 
of  the  heaven-scaling  peaks.  You  are  almost  surprised  to  see 
no  snow  on  them;  the  steam  that  gushes  perpetually  from 
their  chimneys,  and  floats  and  curls  away  on  the  lake  breeze, 
might  well  be  clouds  with  the  summits  rising  above  them  to 
the  sun.  Height  on  height  they  stretch  away  on  every  side 
till  they  are  lost  in  a  cloud  of  murky  smoke  inland.  These 
buildings  are  all  iron-cored,  and  the  masonry  is  only  the 
shells  that  cases  the  rooms  in  them.  They  can  even  be 
built  downward.  You  may  see  one  of  them  with  eight  sto 
reys  of  brick  wall  above,  and  then  four  of  a  vacant  skeleton 
of  girders  below;  the  superstructure  seems  to  be  hanging  in 
air.  Broader  and  more  massive  than  the  tall  buildings  of 
New  York,  older  also  and  dingier,  they  do  not  appear,  like 
them,  simply  boxes  of  windows.  Who  would  suppose  that 
mere  lumps  of  iron  and  bricks  and  mortar  could  be  sublime? 
Yet  these  are  sublime  and  almost  awful.  You  have  awak 
ened,  like  Gulliver,  in  a  land  of  giants — a  land  where  the 
very  houses  are  instinct  with  almost  ferocious  energy  and 
force. 

Then  go  out  on  a  cable  car  or  the  electric  car  or  the  ele 
vated  railroad — Chicago  has  them  all,  and  is  installing  new 
ones  with  feverish  industry  every  day — to  the  parks  and  the 


136  CHICAGO 

boulevards.  Along  Lake  Shore  Drive  you  will  find  the  homes 
of  the  great  merchants,  the  makers  of  Chicago.  Many  of 
these  are  built  in  a  style  which  is  peculiarly  Chicago's  own, 
though  the  best  examples  of  it  are  to  be  seen  in  the  business 
centre  of  the  city.  It  uses  great  blocks  of  rough-hewn  gran 
ite,  red  or  grey.  Their  massive  weight  is  relieved  by  wide 
round  arches  for  doors  and  windows,  by  porches  and  por 
ticos,  loggias  and  galleries,  over  the  whole  face  of  the  build 
ing  from  top  to  bottom.  The  effect  is  almost  prehistoric  in 
its  massive  simplicity,  something  like  the  cyclopean  ruins  of 
Mycenae  or  Tiryns.  The  great  stores  with  the  open  arches 
and  galleries  make  up  a  combination  of  solid  strength  and 
breeziness,  admirably  typical  of  the  spirit  of  the  place.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  Drive  is  the  blue  expanse  of  Lake;  in 
between,  broad  roads  and  ribbons  of  fresh  grass.  Yet  here 
and  there,  among  the  castles  of  the  magnates,  you  will  come 
on  a  little  one-storeyed  wooden  shanty,  squatting  many  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  road,  paint  and  washed-out  playbills 
peeling  off  it,  and  the  broken  windows  hanging  in  shreds. 
Then  again  will  come  a  patch  of  empty  scrubby  waste, 
choked  with  rank  weeds  and  rubble.  It  is  the  same  thing 
with  the  carriages  in  which  the  millionaires  and  their  fami 
lies  drive  up  and  down  after  church  on  Sunday.  They  are 
gorgeously  built  and  magnificently  horsed,  only  the  coach 
man  is  humping  his  back  or  the  footman  is  crossing  his  legs. 
These  are  trivialities,  but  not  altogether  insignificant.  The 
desire  to  turn  out  in  style  is  there,  and  the  failure  in  a  little 
thing  betrays  a  carelessness  of  detail,  an  incapacity  for  order 
and  proportion,  which  are  of  the  essence  of  Chicago.  Never 
was  a  better  found  vessel  spoiled  for  a  ha'porth  of  tar. 

It  will  be  well  worth  your  while  again  to  go  south  to 
Washington  Park  and  Jackson  Park,  where  the  World's 
Fair  was  held.  Chicago,  straggling  over  a  hundred  and 
eighty-six  square  miles,  was  rather  a  tract  of  houses  than  an 


CHICAGO  137 

organic  city  until  somebody  conceived  the  idea  of  coupling 
her  up  with  a  ring  of  parks  connected  by  planted  boulevards. 
The  southern  end  of  the  system  rests  on  the  Lake  at  these 
two  parks.  Chicago  believes  that  her  parks  are  unsurpassed 
in  the  world,  and  certainly  they  will  be  prodigiously  fine — 
when  they  are  finished.  Broad  drives  and  winding  alleys, 
ornamental  trees,  banks  and  beds  of  flowers  and  flowering 
shrubs,  lakes,  and  ornamental  bridges,  and  turf  that  cools 
the  eye  under  the  fiercest  noon — you  bet  your  life  Chicago's 
got  'em  all.  Also  Chicago  has  the  Art  Building,  which  is 
the  one  remaining  relic  of  the  World's  Fair,  and  surely  as 
divinely  proportioned  an  edifice  as  ever  filled  and  satisfied 
the  eye  of  man.  And  always  beyond  it  is  the  Lake.  Seem 
ing  in  places  almost  to  rise  above  the  level  of  the  land,  it 
stretches  along  the  whole  western  side,  so  that  Chicago  is 
perhaps  the  only  one  of  the  world's  greatest  cities  that  is 
really  built  along  a  sea-line.  Sparkling  under  the  sun  by 
day,  or  black  beneath  a  fretwork  of  stars  by  night,  it  is  a 
perpetual  reminder  that  there  is  that  in  nature  even  greater 
and  more  immeasurable  than  the  activities  of  Chicago. 

The  Art  Building  aforesaid  is  now  the  Field  Columbian 
Museum,  having  been  endowed  by  a  leading  citizen  of  that 
name  with  a  cool  million  dollars.  Other  gifts,  with  divi 
dends  contributed  by  holders  of  exhibition  stock,  brought  up 
the  total  to  half  as  much  again.  Chicago  has  a  University 
hard  by,  which  has  come  out  westward,  like  Mahomet  to 
the  mountain,  to  spread  the  light  among  the  twenty-five  mil 
lion  souls  that  live  within  a  morning's  journey  of  Chicago. 
This  University  has  not  been  long  in  existence;  in  a  short 
time  it  has  received  in  benefactions  from  citizens  of  this  place 
nearly  twelve  million  dollars.  Think  of  it,  depressed  Oxford 
and  Cambridge — a  University  endowed  at  the  rate  of  half  a 
million  sterling  a  year!  Two  other  prominent  Chicago  men 
found  themselves  in  Paris  a  while  ago,  when  a  collection  of 


138  CHICAGO 

pictures  were  being  sold;  promptly  they  bought  up  a  hun 
dred  and  eighty  thousand  dollars'  worth  for  the  gallery  of 
their  city.  There  is  hardly  a  leading  name  in  the  business  of 
the  place  but  is  to  be  found  beneath  a  picture  given  or  lent 
to  this  gallery.  And  mark  that  not  only  does  the  untutored 
millionaire  buy  pictures,  but  his  untutored  operative  goes  to 
look  at  them.  It  is  the  same  impulse  that  leads  school  teach 
ers  of  sixty  to  put  in  a  course  at  the  University  during  their 
summer  vacation.  Chicago  is  conscious  that  there  is  some 
thing  in  the  world,  some  sense  of  form,  of  elegance,  of  re 
finement,  that  with  all  her  corn  and  railways,  her  hogs  and 
by-products,  and  dollars,  she  lacks.  She  does  not  quite 
know  what  it  is,  but  she  is  determined  to  have  it,  cost  what  it 
may. 

Mr.  Phil  D.  Armour,  the  hog  king,  giving  a  picture  to 
the  gallery,  and  his  slaughter-house  man  painfully  spelling 
out  the  description  of  it  on  Sunday  afternoon — there  is 
something  rather  pathetic  in  this,  and  assuredly  something 
very  noble. 

But  there  is  another  side  to  Chicago.  There  is  the  back 
side  to  her  fifteen  hundred  million  dollars  of  trade,  her 
seventeen  thousand  vessels,  and  her  network  of  ninety  thou 
sand  miles  of  rail.  Away  from  the  towering  offices,  lying 
off  from  the  smiling  parks,  is  a  vast  wilderness  of  shabby 
houses — a  larger  and  more  desolate  Whitechapel  than  can 
hardly  have  a  parallel  for  sordid  dreariness  in  the  whole 
world.  This  is  the  home  of  labour,  and  of  nothing  else. 
The  evening's  vacancy  brings  relief  from  toil,  the  morn 
ing's  toil  relief  from  vacancy.  Little  shops  compete  fran 
tically  for  what  poor  trade  there  is  with  tawdry  adver 
tisements.  Street  stretches  beyond  street  of  little  houses, 
mostly  wooden,  begrimed  with  soot,  rotting,  falling  to 
pieces.  The  pathways  are  of  rickety  and  worm-eaten 
planks,  such  as  we  would  not  tolerate  a  day  in  London  as 


CHICAGO  139 

a  temporary  gangway  where  a  house  is  being  built.  Here 
the  boarding  is  flush  with  the  street;  there  it  drops  to  it 
in  a  two-foot  precipice,  over  which  you  might  easily  break 
your  leg.  The  streets  are  quagmires  of  black  mud,  and 
no  attempt  is  made  to  repair  them.  They  are  miserably 
lighted,  and  nobody  thinks  of  illuminating  them.  The 
police  force  is  so  weak  that  men  and  women  are  held  up 
and  robbed  almost  nightly  within  the  city  limits;  nobody 
thinks  of  strengthening  it.  Here  and  there  is  a  pit  or  a 
dark  cellar  left  wholly  unguarded  for  the  unwary  foot- 
passenger  to  break  his  neck  in.  All  these  miles  of  un 
kempt  slum  and  wilderness  betray  a  disregard  for  human 
life  which  is  more  than  half  barbarous.  If  you  come  to 
your  death  by  misadventure  among  these  pitfalls,  all  the 
consolation  your  friends  will  get  from  Chicago  is  to  be  told 
that  you  ought  to  have  taken  better  care  of  yourself.  You 
were  unfit;  you  did  not  survive.  There  is  no  more  to  be 
said  about  it. 

The  truth  is  that  nobody  in  this  rushing,  struggling 
tumult  has  any  time  to  look  after  what  we  have  long  ago 
come  to  think  the  bare  decencies  of  civilization.  This  man 
is  in  a  hurry  to  work  up  his  tallow,  that  man  to  ship  his 
grain.  Everybody  is  fighting  to  be  rich,  is  then  straining 
to  be  refined,  and  nobody  can  attend  to  making  the  city 
fit  to  live  in.  I  have  remarked  several  times  before  that 
America  is  everywhere  still  unfinished,  and  unless  the  char 
acter  of  the  people  modifies  itself  with  time  I  do  not  be 
lieve  it  ever  will  be.  They  go  half-way  to  build  up  civil 
ization  in  the  desert,  and  then  they  are  satisfied  and  rush 
forward  to  half-civilize  some  place  further  on.  It  is  not 
that  they  are  incapable  of  thoroughness,  but  that  in  cer 
tain  things  they  do  not  feel  the  need  of  it.  In  Chicago 
there  is  added  to  this  what  looks  like  a  fundamental  inca 
pacity  for  government.  A  little  public  interest  and  a 


I4o  CHICAGO 

small  public  rate  would  put  everything  right;  both  are 
wanting.  Wealth  every  man  will  struggle  for,  and  even 
elegance;  good  government  is  the  business  of  nobody. 

For  if  Chicago  is  the  lodestone  that  attracts  the  enter 
prise  and  commercial  talent  of  two  hemispheres,  it  is  also 
the  sink  into  which  drain  their  dregs.  The  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand  Irish  are  not  a  wholesome  element  in 
municipal  life.  On  the  bleak  west  side  there  are  streets  of 
illiterate,  turbulent  Poles  and  Czechs,  hardly  able  to  speak 
a  word  of  English.  Out  of  this  rude  and  undigested  mass, 
how  could  good  government  come?  How  could  citizens 
combine  to  work  out  for  themselves  a  common  ideal  of 
rational  and  ordered  civic  life?  However,  Chicago  is  now 
setting  her  house  in  order.  It  is  thought  a  great  step  for 
ward  that  there  are  now  actually  one-third  of  the  members 
of  the  municipal  body  who  can  be  relied  upon  to  refuse  a 
bribe.  Some  day  Chicago  will  turn  her  savage  energy  to 
order  and  co-operation.  Instead  of  a  casual  horde  of  jos 
tling  individuals,  she  will  become  a  city  of  citizens.  She 
will  learn  that  freedom  does  not  consist  solely  in  contempt 
for  law.  On  the  day  she  realizes  this  she  will  become  the 
greatest,  as  already  she  is  the  most  amazing,  community 
in  the  world. 


BOSTON    HARBOUR 

CHARLES   KNIGHT 

IT  was  Sunday,  the  28th  day  of  November,  1773,  when 
there  sailed  into  Boston  Harbour  the  English  merchant 
ship  Dartmouth,  laden  with  chests  of  tea  belonging  to  the 
East  India  Company.  The  Act  of  Parliament  which  al 
lowed  the  Treasury  to  license  vessels  to  export  the  teas  of 
the  Company  to  the  American  colonies  free  of  duty  was 
the  signal  for  popular  gatherings  in  Boston.  Samuel 
Adams,  in  the  Boston  Gazette,  roused  again  that  feeling  of 
resistance  which  had  partially  subsided.  The  Governor  of 
Massachusetts,  in  October,  wrote  to  Lord  Dartmouth,  who 
had  succeeded  Lord  Hillsborough  as  Colonial  Secretary, 
that  Samuel  Adams,  "  who  was  the  first  person  that  openly, 
and  in  any  public  assembly,  declared  for  a  total  indepen 
dence,"  had  "  obtained  such  an  ascendency  as  to  direct  the 
town  of  Boston  and  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  con 
sequently  the  Council,  just  as  he  pleases."  The  East  India 
Company  had  appointed  its  consignees  in  Boston.  On  the 
night  of  the  2d  of  November,  summonses  were  left  at  the 
houses  of  each  of  these  persons,  requiring  them  to  appear  on  a 
certain  day  at  Liberty  Tree,  to  resign  their  commissions ;  and 
notices  were  issued  desiring  the  freemen  of  Boston  and  of  the 
neighbouring  towns  to  assemble  at  the  same  place.  The  con 
signees  did  not  appear;  but  a  committee  of  the  Assembly 
traced  them  to  a  warehouse,  where  they  were  met  to  con 
sult.  They  were  required  not  to  sell  the  teas;  but  to  re 
turn  them  to  London  by  the  vessels  which  might  bring  them. 
They  refused  to  comply,  and  were  denounced  as  enemies 

141 


I42  BOSTON   HARBOUR 

to  their  country.  Philadelphia  had  previously  compelled 
the  agents  of  the  Company  to  resign  their  appointments. 
Town  meetings  were  held  at  Boston,  when  strong  resolu 
tions  were  adopted. 

In  this  state  of  things,  on  that  Sunday,  the  28th  of  No 
vember,  the  first  tea-ship  arrived.  The  New  England  colo 
nists  preserved  that  strict  observance  of  the  Sabbath  which 
their  Puritan  fathers  felt  the  highest  of  duties.  But  it  was 
a  work  of  necessity  to  impede  the  landing  of  the  tea;  and  a 
committee  met  twice  on  that  Sunday  to  concert  measures. 
They  obtained  a  promise  from  Rotch,  the  commander  of  the 
ship  Dartmouth,  that  his  vessel  should  not  be  entered  till  the 
following  Tuesday.  On  Monday,  the  Committee  of  all 
the  neighbouring  towns  assembled  at  Boston;  and  five  thou 
sand  persons  agreed  that  the  tea  should  be  sent  back  to  the 
place  whence  it  came.  "  Throw  it  overboard,"  cried  one. 
The  consignees,  alarmed  at  this  demonstration,  declared  that 
they  would  not  send  back  the  teas,  but  that  they  would 
store  them.  This  proposal  was  received  with  scorn, — and 
then  the  consignees  agreed  that  the  teas  should  not  be  landed. 
But  there  was  a  legal  difficulty.  If  the  rest  of  the  cargo 
were  landed,  and  the  tea  not  landed,  the  vessel  could  not 
be  cleared  in  Boston,  and  after  twenty  days  was  liable  to 
seizure.  Two  more  ships  arrived,  and  anchored  by  the  side 
of  the  Dartmouth.  The  people  kept  watch  night  and  day 
to  prevent  any  attempt  at  landing  the  teas.  Thirteen  days 
after  the  arrival  of  the  Dartmouth,  the  owner  was  sum 
moned  before  the  Boston  Committee,  and  told  that  his  vessel 
and  his  tea  must  be  taken  back  to  London.  It  was  out  of 
his  power  to  do  so,  he  said.  He  certainly  had  not  the 
power;  for  the  passages  out  of  the  harbour  were  guarded 
by  two  King's  ships,  to  prevent  any  vessel  going  to  sea  with 
out  a  license.  On  the  i6th,  the  revenue  officers  would  have 
legal  authority  to  take  possession  of  the  Dartmouth.  For 


BOSTON    HARBOUR  143 

three  days  previous  there  had  been  meetings  of  the  Boston 
Committee;  but  their  journal  had  only  this  entry:  "No 
business  transacted  matter  of  record." 

On  the  1 6th  of  December,  there  was  a  meeting  in  Bos 
ton  of  seven  thousand  persons,  who  resolved  that  the  tea 
should  not  be  landed.  The  master  of  the  Dartmouth  was 
ordered  to  apply  to  the  Governor  for  a  pass  for  his  vessel 
to  proceed  on  her  return  voyage  to  London.  The  Gov 
ernor  was  at  his  country  house.  Many  of  the  leaders  had 
adjourned  to  a  church,  to  wait  his  answer.  The  night  had 
come  on  when  Rotch  returned,  and  announced  that  the  Gov 
ernor  had  refused  him  a  pass,  because  his  ship  had  not 
cleared.  There  was  no  more  hesitation.  Forty  or  fifty 
men,  disguised  as  Mohawks,  raised  the  war-whoop  at  the 
porch  of  the  church;  went  onto  the  wharf  where  the  three 
ships  lay  alongside;  took  possession  of  them;  and  deliber 
ately  emptied  three  hundred  and  forty  chests  of  tea  into 
the  waters  of  the  bay.  It  was  the  work  of  three  hours.  Not 
a  sound  was  heard  but  that  of  breaking  open  the  chests. 
The  people  of  Boston  went  to  their  rest  as  if  no  extraor 
dinary  event  had  occurred. 

On  the  27th  of  January,  1774,  the  news  of  this  decisive 
act  reached  the  English  Government.  On  the  29th  there 
was  a  great  meeting  of  the  Lords  of  the  Council  to  consider 
a  petition  of  Massachusetts  for  the  dismissal  of  Hutchin- 
son,  the  Governor,  and  Oliver,  the  Lieutenant-Governor. 
Dr.  Franklin  appeared  before  the  Council  as  agent  for  Mas 
sachusetts.  He  had  obtained  possession  of  some  private  let 
ters  written  confidentially  several  years  before,  in  which 
Hutchinson  and  Oliver  avowed  sentiments  opposed  to  what 
they  considered  the  licentiousness  of  the  colonists.  These 
letters  Franklin  transmitted  to  the  Assembly  at  Boston,  who 
voted,  by  a  large  majority,  that  the  opinions  expressed  con 
templated  the  establishment  of  arbitrary  power;  and  they 


144  BOSTON   HARBOUR 

accordingly  petitioned  for  the  removal  of  the  Governor  and 
Lieutenant-Governor.  The  intelligence  from  Boston  of  the 
destruction  of  the  teas  was  not  likely  to  propitiate  the  Coun 
cil.  Franklin  was  treated  with  little  respect;  and  Wed- 
derburn,  the  Solicitor-General,  assailed  him  with  a  torrent 
of  invectives,  at  which  the  Lords  cheered  and  laughed. 
Franklin  bore  the  assaults  with  perfect  equanimity;  but 
from  that  hour  he  ceased  to  be  a  mediator  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  Colonists.  The  Council  reported  that  the 
petition  from  Massachusetts  was  "  groundless,  vexatious  and 
scandalous."  Two  days  after,  Franklin  was  dismissed  from 
his  office  of  Deputy  Postmaster-General.  He  said  to  Priest 
ley,  who  was  present  at  the  Council,  that  he  considered  the 
thing  for  which  he  had  been  so  insulted  as  one  of  the  best 
actions  of  his  life. 

The  Parliament  had  met  on  the  I3th  of  January.  It  was 
the  7th  of  March  when  Lord  North  delivered  the  King's 
message  relating  to  "  the  violent  and  outrageous  proceed 
ings  at  the  town  and  port  of  Boston,  in  the  province  of  Mas 
sachusetts  Bay,  with  a  view  to  obstructing  the  commerce  of 
this  Kingdom,  and  upon  grounds  and  pretences  immedi 
ately  subversive  of  the  constitution  thereof."  There  was 
a  debate,  of  which  the  most  remarkable  part  was,  that  when 
Lord  North  stated  that  the  proper  papers  should  be  ready 
on  the  following  Friday,  Thurlow,  the  Attorney-General, 
said,  loud  enough  to  reach  the  ear  of  the  minister,  "  I  never 
heard  of  anything  so  impudent;  he  has  no  plan  yet  ready." 
The  one  plan  which  first  presented  itself — the  most  unfor 
tunate  of  all  plans — is  exhibited  in  a  note  of  the  King  to 
Lord  North,  dated  the  4th  of  February :  "  Gen.  Gage, 
though  just  returned  from  Boston,  expresses  his  willingness 
to  go  back  at  a  day's  notice  if  convenient  measures  are 
adopted.  He  says,  '  They  will  be  lions  while  we  are  lambs ; 
but  if  we  take  the  resolute  part,  they  will  undoubtedly  prove 


BOSTON   HARBOUR  145 

very  weak.'  Four  regiments  sent  to  Boston,  will,  he  thinks, 
be  sufficient  to  prevent  any  disturbance.  All  men  now  feel 
that  the  fatal  compliance  of  1766  has  increased  the  preten 
sions  of  the  Americans  to  thorough  independence."  On  the 
I4th  of  March,  Lord  North  brought  in  a  Bill  for  remov 
ing  the  Custom  House  from  Boston,  and  declaring  it  un 
lawful,  after  the  ist  of  June,  to  lade  or  unlade,  ship  or 
unship,  any  goods  from  any  lading-place  within  the  harbour 
of  Boston. 

There  was  little  opposition  to  this  measure,  which  was 
passed  in  a  fortnight,  and  when  sent  to  the  Lords  was 
quickly  adopted.  Chatham  suggested,  in  a  letter  to  Shel- 
burne,  that  reparation  ought  first  to  be  demanded  and  re 
fused  before  such  a  bill  could  be  called  just.  The  letter 
of  Chatham,  in  which  he  makes  this  suggestion,  is  that  of 
a  great  statesman,  exhibiting  the  sound  qualities  of  his  mind 
perhaps  even  more  clearly  than  his  impassioned  oratory : 

"  The  whole  of  this  unhappy  business  is  beset  with  dan 
gers  of  the  most  complicated  and  lasting  nature;  and  the 
point  of  true  wisdom  for  the  mother  country  seems  to  be 
in  such  nice  and  exact  limits  (accurately  distinguished,  and 
embraced,  with  a  large  and  generous  moderation  of  spirit), 
as  narrow,  short-sighted  counsels  of  state,  or  overheated  pop 
ular  debates,  are  not  likely  to  hit.  Perhaps  a  fatal  desire  to 
take  advantage  of  this  guilty  tumult  of  the  Bostonians, 
in  order  to  crush  the  spirit  of  liberty  among  the  Americans 
in  general,  has  taken  possession  of  the  heart  of  government." 


SARATOGA 
E.   S.   CREASY 

BURGOYNE  reached  the  left  bank  of  the  Hudson  on  the 
30th  of  July.  Hitherto  he  had  overcome  every  diffi 
culty  which  the  enemy  and  the  nature  of  the  country  had 
placed  in  his  way.  His  army  was  in  excellent  order,  and 
in  the  highest  spirits,  and  the  peril  of  the  expedition  seemed 
over  when  once  on  the  bank  of  the  river  which  was  to  be 
the  channel  of  communication  between  them  and  the  British 
army  in  the  south. 

The  astonishment  and  alarm  which  these  events  pro 
duced  among  the  Americans  were  naturally  great ;  but  in  the 
midst  of  their  disasters,  none  of  the  colonists  showed  any  dis 
position  to  submit.  The  local  governments  of  the  New  Eng 
land  States,  as  well  as  the  Congress,  acted  with  vigour  and 
firmness  in  their  efforts  to  repel  the  enemy.  General  Gates 
was  sent  to  take  the  command  of  the  army  at  Saratoga;  and 
Arnold  was  despatched  by  Washington  to  act  under  him, 
with  reinforcements  of  troops  and  guns  from  the  main  Amer 
ican  army.  Burgoyne's  employment  of  the  Indians  now  pro 
duced  the  worst  possible  effects.  Though  he  laboured  hard 
to  check  the  atrocities  which  they  were  accustomed  to  com 
mit,  he  could  not  prevent  the  occurrence  of  many  barbarous 
outrages,  repugnant  both  to  the  feelings  of  humanity  and 
to  the  laws  of  civilized  warfare.  The  American  command 
ers  took  care  that  the  reports  of  these  excesses  should  be  cir 
culated  far  and  wide,  well  knowing  that  they  would  make 
the  stern  New  Englanders  not  droop,  but  rage.  Such  was 
their  effect.  Every  man  saw  the  necessity  of  becoming  a 

146 


Copyright,  IHiH,  by  DHr.it  !'liot,.Kra|.liic  Co. 

BATTLE   MONUMENT,    SCHUYLERVILLE,    NEW   YORK 


SARATOGA  147 

temporary  soldier,  not  only  for  his  own  safety,  but  for  the 
protection  and  defence  of  those  connections  which  are  dearer 
than  life  itself.  Thus  an  army  was  poured  forth  by  the 
woods,  mountains,  and  marshes,  which  in  this  part  were 
thickly  sown  with  plantations  and  villages. 

While  resolute  recruits  were  thus  flocking  to  the  standard 
of  Gates  and  Arnold  at  Saratoga,  and  while  Burgoyne  was 
engaged  at  Fort  Edward  in  providing  the  means  for  the  fur 
ther  advance  of  his  army,  two  events  occurred,  in  each  of 
which  the  British  sustained  loss  and  the  Americans  ob 
tained  advantage,  the  moral  effects  of  which  were  even  more 
important  than  the  immediate  result  of  the  encounters. 

Notwithstanding  these  reverses,  which  added  greatly  to 
the  spirit  and  numbers  of  the  American  forces,  Burgoyne 
determined  to  advance.  Having,  by  unremitting  exertions, 
collected  provisions  for  thirty  days,  he  crossed  the  Hudson 
by  means  of  a  bridge  of  rafts,  and,  marching  a  short  dis 
tance  along  its  western  bank,  he  encamped  on  the  I4th  of 
September  on  the  heights  of  Saratoga.  The  Americans  had 
fallen  back  from  Saratoga,  and  were  now  strongly  posted 
near  Stillwater,  about  half-way  between  Saratoga  and  Al 
bany,  and  showed  a  determination  to  recede  no  further. 

The  country  between  Burgoyne's  position  at  Saratoga  and 
that  of  the  Americans  at  Stillwater  was  rugged,  and  seamed 
with  creeks  and  water-courses;  but,  after  great  labour  in 
making  bridges  and  temporary  causeways,  the  British  army 
moved  forward.  About  four  miles  from  Saratoga,  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  igth  of  September,  a  sharp  encounter  took 
place  between  part  of  the  English  right  wing,  under  Bur 
goyne  himself,  and  a  strong  body  of  the  enemy,  under 
Gates  and  Arnold.  The  conflict  lasted  till  sunset.  The 
British  remained  masters  of  the  field;  but  the  loss 
on  each  side  was  nearly  equal  (from  five  hundred 
to  six  hundred  men)  ;  and  the  spirits  of  the  Americans 


I48  SARATOGA 

were  greatly  raised  by  having  withstood  the  best  regular 
troops  of  the  English  army.  Burgoyne  now  halted 
again,  and  strengthened  his  position  by  field-works  and  re 
doubts;  and  the  Americans  also  improved  their  defences. 
The  two  armies  remained  nearly  within  cannon-shot  of  each 
other  for  a  considerable  time,  during  which  Burgoyne  was 
anxiously  looking  for  intelligence  of  the  promised  expedi 
tion  from  New  York.  At  last  a  messenger  brought  the  in 
formation  that  Clinton  was  on  his  way  up  the  Hudson  to 
attack  the  American  forts  which  barred  the  passage  to  Al 
bany.  Burgoyne,  in  reply,  stated  that  unless  he  received 
assistance  before  the  loth  of  October,  he  would  be  obliged 
to  retreat  to  the  lakes  through  want  of  provisions. 

The  Indians  and  the  Canadians  now  began  to  desert  Bur 
goyne,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  Gates's  army  was  contin 
ually  reinforced  by  fresh  bodies  of  the  militia.  And  find 
ing  the  number  and  spirit  of  the  enemy  to  increase  daily,  and 
his  own  stores  of  provisions  to  diminish,  Burgoyne  determined 
on  attacking  the  Americans  in  front  of  him,  and,  by  dis 
lodging  them  from  their  position,  to  gain  the  means  of  mov 
ing  upon  Albany,  or,  at  least,  of  relieving  his  troops  from 
the  straitened  position  in  which  they  were  cooped  up. 

Burgoyne's  force  was  now  reduced  to  less  than  6000  men. 
The  right  of  his  camp  was  on  some  high  ground  a  little  to 
the  west  of  the  river:  thence  his  intrenchments  extended 
along  the  lower  ground  to  the  bank  of  the  Hudson,  their  line 
being  nearly  at  a  right  angle  to  the  course  of  the  stream.  The 
lines  were  fortified  in  the  centre  and  the  left  with  redoubts 
and  field-works.  The  numerical  force  of  the  Americans 
was  now  greater  than  the  British,  even  in  regular  troops, 
and  the  numbers  of  the  militia  and  volunteers  which  had 
joined  Gates  and  Arnold  were  greater  still.  The  right  of 
the  American  position,  that  is  to  say,  the  part  of  it  nearest 
to  the  river,  was  too  strong  to  be  assailed  with  any  prospect  of 


SARATOGA  149 

success,  and  Burgoyne  therefore  determined  to  endeavour  to 
force  their  left.  For  this  purpose  he  formed  a  column  of 
1500  regular  troops  with  two  twelve-pounders,  two  how 
itzers,  and  six  six-pounders.  The  enemy's  force  immedi 
ately  in  front  of  his  lines  was  so  strong  that  he  dared  not 
weaken  the  troops  who  guarded  them  by  detaching  any  more 
to  strengthen  his  column  of  attack. 

Burgoyne  pushed  forward  some  bodies  of  irregular  troops 
to  distract  the  enemy's  attention,  and  led  his  column  to 
within  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  left  of  Gates's  camp, 
and  then  deployed  his  men  into  line.  The  Grenadiers,  un 
der  Major  Ackland,  were  drawn  up  on  the  left,  a  corps  of 
Germans  to  the  centre,  and  the  English  Light  Infantry  and 
the  24th  regiment  on  the  right.  But  Gates  did  not  wait 
to  be  attacked;  and  directly  the  British  line  was  formed  and 
began  to  advance,  the  American  general,  with  admirable 
skill,  caused  a  strong  force  to  make  a  sudden  and  vehement 
rush  against  its  left.  The  Grenadiers  under  Ackland  sus 
tained  the  charge  of  superior  numbers  nobly.  But  Gates 
sent  more  Americans  forward,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
action  became  general  along  the  centre,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
Germans  from  sending  any  help  to  the  Grenadiers.  Bur- 
goyne's  right  was  not  yet  engaged ;  but  a  mass  of  the  enemy 
were  observed  advancing  from  their  extreme  left,  with  the 
evident  intention  of  turning  the  British  right,  and  cutting 
off  its  retreat.  The  Light  Infantry  and  the  24th  now  fell 
back,  and  formed  an  oblique  second  line,  which  enabled 
them  to  baffle  this  manoeuvre,  and  also  to  succour  their  com 
rades  in  the  left  wing,  the  gallant  Grenadiers,  who  were 
overpowered  by  superior  numbers,  and,  but  for  this  aid, 
must  have  been  cut  to  pieces.  Arnold  now  came  up  with 
three  American  regiments  and  attacked  the  right  flank  of 
the  English  double  line.  Burgoyne's  whole  force  was  soon 
compelled  to  retreat  toward  their  camp;  the  left  and  centre 


I5o  SARATOGA 

were  in  complete  disorder;  but  the  Light  Infantry  and  the 
24th  checked  the  fury  of  the  assailants,  and  the  remains  of 
Burgoyne's  column  with  great  difficulty  effected  their  re 
turn  to  their  camp,  leaving  six  of  their  guns  in  the  pos 
session  of  the  enemy,  and  great  numbers  of  killed  and 
wounded  on  the  field ;  and  especially  a  large  proportion  of  the 
artillerymen,  who  had  stood  to  their  guns  until  shot  down 
or  bayoneted  beside  them  by  the  advancing  Americans. 

Burgoyne's  column  had  been  defeated,  but  the  action  was 
not  yet  over.  The  English  had  scarcely  entered  the  camp, 
when  the  Americans,  pursuing  their  success,  assaulted  it  in 
several  places  with  uncommon  fierceness,  rushing  to  the  lines 
through  a  severe  fire  of  grape-shot  and  musketry  with  the 
utmost  fury.  Arnold  especially,  who  on  this  day  appeared 
maddened  with  the  thirst  of  combat  and  carnage,  urged  on 
the  attack  against  a  part  of  the  intrenchments  which  was 
occupied  by  the  Light  Infantry  under  Lord  Balcarras. 

But  the  English  received  him  with  vigour  and  spirit. 
The  struggle  here  wUs  obstinate  and  sanguinary.  At  length, 
as  it  grew  towards  evening,  Arnold  having  forced  all  ob 
stacles,  entered  the  works  with  some  of  the  most  fearless  of 
his  followers.  But  at  this  critical  moment  of  glory  and 
danger,  he  received  a  painful  wound  in  the  leg  which  had 
already  been  injured  at  the  assault  on  Quebec. 

To  his  bitter  regret,  he  was  obliged  to  be  carried  back. 
His  party  still  continued  the  attack;  but  the  English  still 
continued  their  obstinate  resistance,  and  at  last  night  fell, 
and  the  assailants  withdrew  from  this  quarter  of  the  Brit 
ish  intrenchments.  But  in  another  part  the  attack  had  been 
more  successful.  A  body  of  Americans  under  Colonel 
Brooke,  forced  their  way  in  through  a  part  of  the  intrench 
ments  on  the  extreme  right,  which  was  defended  by  the  Ger 
man  reserve  under  Colonel  Breyman.  The  Germans  re 
sisted  well,  and  Breyman  died  in  defence  of  his  post ;  but  the 


SARATOGA  !5I 

Americans  made  good  the  ground  which  they  had  won,  and 
captured  baggage,  tents,  artillery,  and  a  store  of  ammuni 
tion,  which  they  were  greatly  in  need  of.  They  had,  by 
establishing  themselves  on  this  point,  acquired  the  means  of 
completely  turning  the  right  flank  of  the  British,  and  gain 
ing  their  rear.  To  prevent  this  calamity,  Burgoyne  ef 
fected  during  the  night  a  complete  change  of  position.  With 
great  skill  he  removed  his  whole  army  to  some  heights  near 
the  river,  a  little  northward  of  the  former  camp,  and  he 
there  drew  up  his  men,  expecting  to  be  attacked  on  the  fol 
lowing  day.  But  Gates  was  resolved  not  to  risk  the  cer 
tain  triumph  which  his  success  had  already  secured  for  him. 
He  harrassed  the  English  with  skirmishes,  but  attempted 
no  regular  attack.  Meanwhile  he  detached  bodies  of  troops 
on  both  sides  of  the  Hudson  to  prevent  the  British  from  re- 
crossing  that  river  and  to  bar  their  retreat.  When  night 
fell,  it  became  absolutely  necessary  for  Burgoyne  to  retire 
again,  and,  accordingly,  the  troops  were  marched  through 
a  stormy  and  rainy  night  toward  Saratoga,  abandoning  their 
sick  and  wounded,  and  the  greater  part  of  their  baggage  to 
the  enemy. 

Burgoyne  now  took  up  his  last  position  on  the  heights  near 
Saratoga,  and,  hemmed  in  by  the  enemy  who  refused  an  en 
counter,  and  baffled  in  all  his  attempts  at  finding  a  path  of 
escape,  he  lingered  until  famine  compelled  him  to  capitu 
late. 

At  length  the  I3th  of  October  arrived,  and  as  no  pros 
pect  of  assistance  appeared,  and  the  provisions  were  nearly 
exhausted,  Burgoyne,  by  the  unanimous  advice  of  a  coun 
cil  of  war,  sent  a  messenger  to  the  American  camp  to  treat 
of  a  convention.  After  various  messages,  a  convention  for 
the  surrender  of  the  army  was  settled,  which  provided  that 
"  the  troops  under  General  Burgoyne  were  to  march  out  of 
their  camp  with  honours  of  war,  and  the  artillery  out  of 


I52  SARATOGA 

the  intrenchments  to  the  verge  of  the  river,  where  the  arms 
and  artillery  were  to  be  left.  The  arms  to  be  piled  by  word 
of  command  of  their  own  officers.  A  free  passage  was  to  be 
granted  to  the  army  under  Lieutenant-General  Burgoyne  to 
Great  Britain,  upon  condition  of  not  serving  again  in  North 
America  during  the  present  contest." 

The  articles  of  capitulation  were  settled  on  the  1 5th  of 
October,  and  on  that  very  evening  a  messenger  arrived  from 
Clinton  with  an  account  of  his  success,  and  with  the  tidings 
that  part  of  his  force  had  penetrated  as  far  as  Esopus,  within 
fifty  miles  of  Burgoyne's  camp.  But  it  was  too  late.  The 
public  faith  was  pledged ;  and  the  army  was  indeed  too  debili 
tated  by  fatigue  and  hunger  to  resist  an  attack,  if  made;  and 
Gates  certainly  would  have  made  it,  if  the  convention  had 
been  broken  off. 

Accordingly,  on  the  1 7th,  the  Convention  of  Saratoga 
was  carried  into  effect.  By  this  convention  5790  men  sur 
rendered  themselves  as  prisoners.  The  sick  and  wounded 
left  in  the  camp  when  the  British  retreated,  together  with 
the  numbers  of  the  British,  German,  and  Canadian  troops, 
who  were  killed,  wounded,  or  taken,  and  who  had  deserted 
in  the  preceding  part  of  the  expedition,  were  reckoned  to 
be  4689. 

Gates,  after  the  victory,  immediately  despatched  Colonel 
Wilkinson  to  carry  the  happy  tidings  to  Congress.  On  be 
ing  introduced  into  the  hall,  he  said :  "  The  whole  British 
army  has  laid  down  its  arms  at  Saratoga;  our  own,  full  of 
vigour  and  courage,  expect  your  orders.  It  is  for  your  wis 
dom  to  decide  where  the  country  may  still  have  need  of  their 
services." 

Honours  and  rewards  were  liberally  voted  by  the  Con 
gress  to  their  conquering  general  and  his  men ;  and  it  would 
be  difficult  to  describe  the  transports  of  joy  which  the  news 
of  this  event  excited  among  the  Americans. 


SARATOGA  153 

They  began  to  flatter  themselves  with  a  still  more  happy 
future.  No  one  any  longer  felt  any  doubt  about  their 
achieving  their  independence.  All  hoped,  and  with  good 
reason,  that  a  success  of  this  importance  would  at  length  de 
termine  France,  and  the  other  European  powers  that  waited 
for  her  example,  to  declare  themselves  in  favour  of  America. 
"  There  could  no  longer  be  any  question  respecting  the  fu 
ture,  since  there  was  no  longer  the  risk  of  espousing  the 
cause  of  a  people  too  feeble  to  defend  themselves." 


SAULT   STE.    MARIE 
ISAAC   AIKEN 

THE  St.  Mary's  River,  which  separates  the  upper  penin 
sula  of  Michigan  from  Canada,  and  connects  Lake 
Huron  with  Lake  Superior,  is  sixty-three  miles  long,  and  is 
probably  the  most  difficult  of  navigation  on  the  continent. 
It  is  between  two  and  three  miles  wride  at  the  mouth,  and 
studded  with  numerous  beautiful  islands.  As  we  ascend,  the 
stream  becomes  quite  narrow  at  different  points,  then  sud 
denly  widens  out  into  picturesque  lakelets.  Reaching  the 
head  of  the  river,  we  meet  the  falls,  where  all  boats  had  to 
stop  prior  to  the  opening  of  the  canal,  but  now  pass  on  freely, 
no  matter  what  their  tonnage  may  be.  The  "  falls  "  are  a 
succession  of  rapids,  with  a  descent  of  twenty-two  feet  in 
three-quarters  of  a  mile,  their  whole  length.  There  is  no 
bold  precipice  at  any  point  over  which  the  waters  leap,  but 
a  gradual  flow  into  the  deep  channel  of  the  river.  There 
are  several  small  islands  scattered  among  the  rapids,  creating 
different  channels.  The  waters  rush  down  with  great  fury, 
leaping  over  huge  boulders  and  winding  round  the  fairy 
islands.  The  fish  are  abundant  in  the  rapids.  Indians  and 
half-breeds  may  be  seen  at  all  hours  of  the  summer  day 
scooping  out  splendid  white-fish.  Two  of  them  go  out  in 
each  canoe.  The  canoe  will  sit  in  the  dashing  stream  by  the 
hour,  steady  as  though  held  by  anchor.  They  go  right  out 
into  the  most  turbulent  parts  of  the  channel.  One  man  sits 
in  the  stern  of  the  canoe,  and  with  his  single  oar  holds  her 
in  the  same  position  for  a  long  time,  her  bow  parting  the 
waters  beautifully.  To  the  spectator  ashore  it  frequently 

154 


SAULT   STE.    MARIE  155 

looks  very  hazardous.  There  is  quite  an  art  in  the  manage 
ment  of  the  frail  little  shell  in  such  a  position.  The  Indian 
who  handles  the  net  dips  it  quickly  at  the  right  moment  and 
locality,  and  takes  in  his  fish  as  the  noble  fellow  is  heading 
courageously  against  the  current.  This  fishing  is  laborious, 
but  very  exciting,  and  frequently  pays  well.  A  score  of  ca 
noes  out  in  the  rapids  at  a  time  when  the  fish  are  plenty 
produces  a  scene  of  high  excitement  among  spectators  on 
the  shore,  who  probably  have  just  landed  from  the  steam 
boat  on  their  first  trip  to  Lake  Superior.  Adventurous 
strangers  catch  the  spirit  of  the  scene  and  try  their  hand. 
And  now  for  fun.  It  is  all  very  well  while  they  are  content 
to  go  out  and  share  with  the  Indian;  but  if  prompted  by 
their  vanity  to  take  charge  of  a  canoe — one  to  hold  the  oar, 
the  other  to  fish — their  ardour  is  soon  dampened,  and  a 
good  laugh  afforded  those  who  remain  on  terra  firma.  The 
scene  is  ludicrous  in  the  highest  degree.  Despite  the  utmost 
efforts  of  white  men  I  have  seen  try  it,  the  canoe  rushes 
down  stream.  They  try  again  and  again,  but  down,  down 
she  goes  like  a  bird,  and  the  only  wonder  is  that  she  does 
not  upset.  Our  travellers,  having  worked  themselves  into  a 
frenzy  of  excitement  to  become  expert  fishermen  after  the 
style  of  the  Sault  Indian  and  half-breed,  give  up  in  disgust, 
make  for  the  bank  as  soon  as  possible,  and  rarely  try  a  sec 
ond  time.  One  chance,  however,  yet  remains  for  the  cour 
ageous  spirits — that  of  having  an  exhilarating  dance  among 
the  dashing,  laughing  waters.  And  be  it  known  that  the 
ladies  are  generally  two  to  one  in  the  adventure.  This  is  to 
walk  up  the  river  bank  to  the  head  of  the  rapids,  step  into  a 
canoe,  and  rush  down  some  of  the  channels,  an  Indian  hav 
ing  you  in  charge.  I  have  seen  this  done  several  times,  but 
never  attempted  it.  If  everything  happens  to  go  right,  all 
is  well;  but  a  little  oversight,  and  your  chances  of  escape 
need  not  be  reckoned  on.  Several  lives  were  lost  in  earlier 


156  SAULT    STE.    MARIE 

years  in  this  attempt  to  descend  the  rapids.  An  Indian  can 
do  it  safely,  because  he  does  not  lose  self-control  through 
excitement.  One  who  has  not  learned  the  art  of  suppressing 
all  excitement  under  the  most  extreme  circumstances  should 
never  make  the  venture. 

The  village  of  Sault  Ste.  Marie  was  founded  by  the  Jes 
uits  over  two  hundred  years  ago.  The  settlement  figures 
prominently  in  the  history  of  their  missions  among  the  In 
dians.  It  was  also  the  seat  of  a  government  fort.  The  town 
is  of  little  importance  in  any  way.  There  is  nothing  to 
build  it  up,  there  being  no  mineral  deposits  in  the  vicinity, 
and  its  agricultural  interests  cannot  amount  to  much  at  any 
time  in  the  future.  It  will  always  have  a  great  deal  of  sum 
mer  travel,  on  account  of  its  location  by  the  falls.  The 
country  around  is  highly  romantic,  and  the  trout  fishing 
good  in  the  streams.  It  is  a  delightful  place  at  which  to 
spend  a  few  weeks  in  summer,  exploring  the  many  wild 
haunts  around  the  mouth  of  the  lake,  and  in  fishing  and 
duck-shooting. 

It  is  only  about  fifteen  years  since  Lake  Superior  was 
fully  opened  to  our  lake  commerce  by  the  construction  of  the 
St.  Mary's  ship  canal,  to  overcome  the  obstruction  of  the 
rapids  to  continuous  navigation.  This  canal  is  a  noble  mon 
ument  to  the  enterprise  of  the  present  age.  The  old  maxim 
was,  "  Perseverance  conquers  all  things  " ;  the  modern  read 
ing  of  which  is,  "  Money  conquers  all  things."  Thousands 
of  years  ago  men  were  content  to  build  pyramids,  the  tower 
of  Babel  and  such  like,  without  reference  to  large  or  even 
small  dividends  on  their  investments,  but  all  that  kind  of 
building  is  unknown  in  America.  We  have  as  much  perse 
verance  as  the  pyramid  or  tower  builders,  but  while  they  were 
content  to  live  to  work,  we  work  to  live.  With  us  every 
thing  of  this  kind  must  pay  in  dollars,  and  then  we  build  as 
high  as  the  ancients,  and  excavate  deeper,  and  bore  through 


SAULT   STE.   MARIE  157 

greater  mountains,  and  talk  under  the  widest  oceans,  and 
span  with  iron  rails  the  largest  continents.  We  stop  at 
nothing.  And  so,  up  here  lay  inexhaustible  mountains  of 
minerals,  but  the  rocks  of  Sault  rapids  stood  as  an  impass 
able  barrier  in  the  way  of  vessels  waiting  to  carry  these  min 
erals  to  where  they  might  augment  the  material  wealth  of 
the  world;  and  presto!  the  rocks  disappear.  A  million  dol 
lars'  worth  of  powder  and  muscle  expended,  and  a  highway 
is  opened  for  the  vessels  through  solid  rock.  The  canal  is 
wide  and  deep  enough  to  admit  the  largest  boats  in  the  trade. 
I  believe  there  are  some  steamers  on  the  lower  lakes  too  long 
for  the  locks,  but  these  would  not  suit  the  Lake  Superior 
trade.  The  locks  are  probably  the  largest  in  the  world.  The 
canal  is  a  mile  long.  The  cost  of  construction  was  largely 
borne  by  a  government  appropriation  of  lands  in  the  State 
of  Michigan.  All  vessels  passing  through  pay  toll. 

We  pass  out  of  the  ship  canal  across  Tequamenon  Bay 
into  the  lake  with  the  rising  of  the  sun.  The  morning  is 
delightful.  Such  an  atmosphere,  so  pure  to  the  eye,  so  in 
vigorating  to  breathe,  one  never  moves  through  in  lower 
latitudes.  Every  passenger  is  in  ecstasy  with  the  hour  and 
surroundings.  The  lake  is  smooth  as  a  sea  of  glass,  save  the 
gentle  swell  created  by  the  motion  of  the  boat.  There  is 
not  the  slightest  current  in  the  air  that  we  can  feel,  except 
that  arising  from  our  own  motion.  We  sit  on  the  upper 
deck  that  we  may  be  able  to  sweep  the  eye  over  the  whole 
picture.  Wild  ducks  by  thousands  are  seen  over  toward  the 
north  shore.  Some  of  them  fly  off  in  alarm:  most  remain 
quietly  on  the  water,  paying  no  attention  to  us.  Indians 
are  encamped  on  the  south  shore,  the  smoke  of  their  camp- 
fires  curling  up  snake-like  toward  the  sun  while  their  morn 
ing  meal  is  in  course  of  preparation.  Some  of  them  are  glid 
ing  over  the  water  in  their  canoes.  And  here,  farther  up, 
are  white  men  busy  taking  in  splendid  white-fish  and  Mack- 


158  SAULT   STE.    MARIE 

inac  trout  from  their  gill-nets.  As  it  is  now  breakfast  hour, 
the  gulls  begin  to  gather  round  the  boat,  hovering  over  her 
track  that  they  may  pick  up  the  crumbs  that  will  be  thrown 
overboard  by  the  waiters.  The  captain  brings  out  a  beauti 
ful  little  fowling-piece  and  tries  to  wing  some  of  them. 
Shot  after  shot  is  fired,  but  no  bird  falls.  With  every  flash 
the  birds  make  a  sudden  curve,  and  instantly  fall  into  place 
again,  following  us  up  closely.  They  have  a  sublime  con 
tempt  for  the  gun,  if  they  are  gulls.  They  seem  to  know 
well  enough  that  danger  is  threatening  them,  but  neverthe 
less  consider  themselves  masters  of  the  situation.  Some  of 
the  passengers,  who  pride  themselves  on  being  good  marks 
men,  are  itching  to  try  the  captain's  gun:  they  feel  sure  of 
success.  They  are  gratified  with  the  chance  to  shoot,  but 
not  with  their  ill  success.  Not  a  bird  is  hurt.  In  the  mean 
time,  the  ladies  have  their  enjoyment  of  the  scene  by  casting 
bread  on  the  water,  and  watching  the  birds  dip  with  beau 
tiful  agility  and  pick  it  up,  sweeping  right  on  without  break 
ing  their  graceful  curve  through  the  air. 

The  rapid  motion  of  the  steamer  soon  carries  us  out  on 
the  lake,  where  we  lose  sight  of  land  on  the  north,  while  on 
the  south,  keeping  close  to  shore,  we  pass  successively  White- 
fish  Point,  the  seat  of  the  lighthouse ;  Point  au  Sable,  a  chain 
of  barren  white  sand-hills,  rising  several  hundred  feet  above 
the  lake;  the  world-renowned  Pictured  Rocks,  stretching 
like  a  grand  panorama  for  five  miles  along  the  coast;  and 
Grand  Island,  where  there  is  a  fine  natural  harbour.  Im 
mediately  after  passing  Grand  Island,  Marquette  looms  into 
view. 


LEXINGTON 
HENRY   B.   DAWSON 

THE  troubles  between  the  colonies  and  the  mother 
country,  which,  for  upwards  of  half  a  century,  had 
been  accumulating  and  gaining  strength,  had  been  increased 
to  an  alarming  extent  by  the  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  in 
1765.  The  loyalty  of  the  colonists  had  been  so  much  im 
paired  by  the  passage  of  the  Act,  that  its  repeal,  while  it 
temporarily  quieted  them,  did  not  effectually  restore  good 
will  ;  and  the  mutiny  act,  which  accompanied  the  repeal,  and 
the  act  imposing  duties  on  tea  and  other  necessary  articles, 
which  speedily  followed,  called  forth  the  energetic  opposi 
tion  of  the  people  throughout  nearly  the  whole  of  the  Brit 
ish  American  colonies. 

Letters  and  remonstrances,  and  petitions  for  relief,  had 
been  addressed  by  the  colonists  and  by  the  colonial  assem 
blies  to  influential  persons  in  Europe,  and  to  parliament  and 
the  king;  conventions  and  congresses  had  been  convened  and 
dissolved;  riots  and  loss  of  life  and  limb  had  marked  the 
progress  of  the  popular  antipathies  against  the  representa 
tives  of  the  crown;  the  committees  of  correspondence  had 
been  organized  for  the  purpose  of  harmonizing  the  opposi 
tion,  and  of  producing  concert  of  action  throughout  the 
young  confederacy. 

A  determined  spirit  of  resistance  had  been  manifested  in 
the  different  seaports,  when  an  intended  attempt  to  force  the 
tea  into  the  colonies  had  been  made  known;  and  in  New 
York  and  Boston,  at  least,  the  people,  in  their  might,  had 
returned  the  consignments  to  their  owners,  or  re-consigned 
them  to  the  waters  of  their  harbours.  The  closing  of  the 

159 


160  LEXINGTON 

port  of  Boston;  the  abrogation  of  the  rights  of  the  colonial 
assembly  of  New  York;  the  suspension  of  the  charter  of  the 
colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay;  and  other  measures  of  a  kin 
dred  character,  had  been  adopted  by  the  British  govern 
ment,  or  by  the  royal  governors  of  the  several  colonies.  Non 
importation  leagues  had  been  reorganized  and  their  require 
ments  enforced,  and  other  retaliatory  measures  had  been 
adopted  by  the  colonists;  the  militia  had  been  put  into  a 
state  of  greater  efficiency;  arms  had  been  provided  by  those 
who  were  without  them;  and  by  the  colonies  for  the  general 
use;  the  manufacture  of  arms  and  of  gun-powder  had  been 
commenced  in  several  of  the  colonies;  encouragement  had 
been  offered  to  those  who  would  engage  in  the  manufacture 
of  saltpetre;  military  stores  had  been  collected  and  deposited 
in  convenient  places;  and  resistance  to  the  power  of  the 
mother  country,  by  open  force,  had  been  made  the  subject 
of  common  conversation. 

The  "  Committee  of  Supplies,"  appointed  for  that  pur 
pose  by  the  Provincial  Congress  of  Massachusetts,  had  pur 
chased  a  considerable  quantity  of  military  stores  and  pro 
visions,  and  had  placed  a  portion  of  them  in  the  custody  of 
Colonel  James  Barrett,  in  the  town  of  Concord,  seventeen 
miles  northwest  from  the  town  of  Boston.  Early  in  the 
spring  of  1775,  information  of  this  movement  had  been  con 
veyed  to  General  Thomas  Gage,  the  commander-in-chief  of 
the  British  forces  in  Boston,  and  steps  were  taken  for  the 
capture  or  destruction  of  the  stores.  Officers  in  disguise  had 
been  sent  out  as  spies,  to  sketch  the  roads,  to  ascertain  the 
situation  of  the  stores,  and  to  obtain  such  other  information 
as  might  be  useful  in  the  prosecution  of  the  enterprise. 

A  few  days  before  the  time  appointed  to  make  the  seizure, 
the  grenadier  and  light-infantry  companies  were  taken  off 
duty,  under  pretence  of  enabling  them  to  learn  a  new  exer 
cise,  but  really  for  the  purpose  of  throwing  the  people  of 


LEXINGTON  161 

Boston  off  their  guard.  It  had  a  contrary  effect,  however, 
and  the  Bostonians  still  more  closely  watched  the  movements 
of  the  troops  and  the  government. 

A  Daughter  of  Liberty,  in  Boston,  privately  notified  Sam 
uel  Adams  and  John  Hancock,  who  had  withdrawn  from 
Boston  and  were  residing  in  Lexington,  that  within  a  few 
days  the  troops  would  leave  the  town,  but  the  object  of  the 
expedition  was  not  ascertained.  Mr.  Adams  inferred,  from 
the  number  of  troops  to  be  employed,  that  the  destruction  or 
capture  of  the  stores  was  the  object ;  and  the  "  Committee  of 
Safety,"  of  the  Provincial  Congress,  voted  "  that  all  the 
ammunition  be  deposited  in  nine  different  towns;  and  that 
other  articles  be  lodged,  some  in  one  place,  some  in  another: 
so  as  to  the  fifteen  medicinal  chests,  two  thousand  iron  pots, 
two  thousand  bowls,  fifteen  thousand  canteens,  and  eleven 
hundred  tents;  and  that  the  six  companies  of  matrosses  be 
stationed  in  different  towns." 

On  the  eighteenth  of  April,  for  the  purpose  of  still  fur 
ther  concealing  the  purposes  of  the  general,  a  party  of  offi 
cers  dined  together  at  Cambridge;  but  after  dinner  they 
scattered  themselves  upon  the  road  leading  to  Concord,  for 
the  purpose  of  intercepting  any  expresses  which  might  be 
sent  out  of  Boston  to  alarm  the  country  on  the  departure  of 
the  troops.  Notwithstanding  all  their  caution,  however, 
they  were  seen,  and  the  object  of  their  mission  was  under 
stood.  The  "  Committee  of  Safety  "  had  been  in  session  at 
Menotomy  (West  Cambridge),  and  the  veteran  General 
William  Heath,  who  was  a  member,  on  his  return  home, 
met  eight  or  nine  of  the  party  riding  towards  Lexington.  His 
experienced  eye  detected  the  character  of  their  equipments; 
and  that  circumstance,  connected  with  the  lateness  of  the 
hour,  and  their  distance  from  Boston,  excited  his  suspicion. 

In  the  town  the  same  secrecy  was  attempted,  yet,  although 
nearly  all  the  leaders  of  the  popular  party  had  retired  into 


162  LEXINGTON 

the  country,  Dr.  Joseph  Warren,  who  remained,  noticed  the 
movements,  and  took  immediate  steps  to  prevent  their  suc 
cess.  Assisted  by  Paul  Revere, — subsequently  well  known 
as  one  of  the  earliest  engravers  in  the  country, — beacon 
lights  were  thrown  out  from  the  tower  of  the  North  Church ; 
and  Revere  himself  (rowed  across  the  Charles  River  by  a 
tried  friend,  five  minutes  before  the  sentinels  on  the  Som 
erset,  a  man-of-war  which  was  anchored  in  the  channel,  re 
ceived  orders  to  prevent  any  person  from  passing),  hastened 
towards  Lexington,  by  way  of  Charlestown,  while  William 
Dawes  was  despatched  by  way  of  Roxbury  to  the  same  place. 
A  short  distance  beyond  Charlestown  Neck,  Revere  was 
stopped  by  two  British  officers  who  had  been  patrolling  the 
road  since  sunset  on  the  preceding  evening,  but,  being 
mounted  on  a  fine  horse,  he  escaped,  by  way  of  the  road 
leading  to  Medford.  As  he  rode  through  that  town  he 
aroused  the  captain  of  the  minute-men,  and  stopping  at 
almost  every  house  on  his  way  to  Lexington,  the  inhabitants 
were  prepared  to  discharge  the  important  duty  which  was 
rapidly  devolving  upon  them.  Dawes  also  successfully  dis 
charged  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  and  arrived  at  Lexington 
in  safety.  The  two  friends  immediately  proceeded  to  the 
house  of  Rev.  Jonas  Clark,  the  pastor  of  the  church  at  Lex 
ington,  where  John  Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams  were 
secreted ;  and  notwithstanding  the  guard  of  minute-men,  who 
had  been  posted  around  the  house,  strangely  forbade  their 
entrance,  they  succeeded  in  arousing  the  sleeping  patriots, 
and  in  persuading  them  to  retire  to  Woburn.  The  two 
friends,  joined  by  Samuel  Prescott,  of  Concord — an  active 
Son  of  Liberty — after  arousing  the  minute-men  in  Lexing 
ton,  proceeded  towards  Concord,  calling  up  the  inhabitants 
on  their  road,  until  they  reached  Lincoln,  where  they  fell  in 
with  another  party  of  British  officers.  Revere  and  Dawes 
were  seized  and  taken  back  to  Lexington ;  but  Prescott,  leap- 


LEXINGTON  163 

ing  over  a  stone  wall,  escaped  and  galloped  on  towards  Con 
cord,  spreading  the  alarm  along  the  road,  and  in  the  villages 
through  which  he  passed.  He  reached  Concord  about  two 
o'clock,  and  the  alarm-bell,  on  the  belfry  of  their  meeting 
house,  called  forth  the  inhabitants  to  the  town-hall,  their 
place  of  rendezvous.  Old  and  young  alike  responded  to  the 
call,  and  while  the  minute-men  and  most  of  the  militia, 
headed  by  Rev.  William  E.  Emerson,  their  pastor,  carrying 
their  guns,  and  powder-horns,  and  ball-pouches,  answered 
to  their  names  at  roll-call,  others,  with  equal  or  greater  dili 
gence,  ran  expresses  to  distant  villages,  or  hurried  away  the 
stores  and  provisions,  and  secreted  them  in  the  woods  and 
thickets,  a  load  in  a  place.  Children,  even,  whose  tender 
age  forbade  heavier  labour,  ran  beside  the  teams,  and,  with 
goads,  urged  on  their  unwilling  steps,  and  women,  trem 
bling  for  the  result,  assisted  in  the  work,  wherever  their 
efforts  or  their  words  of  encouragement  were  found  useful. 

At  the  different  villages  in  the  vicinity  similar  scenes  were 
enacted,  and  the  inhabitants  generally  seemed  to  have  been 
thoroughly  aroused,  and  appreciated  the  importance  of  the 
occasion. 

At  Lexington,  by  two  o'clock,  the  village  green  was 
thronged  with  excited  men.  The  aged,  who  were  exempt, 
unless  wrhen  insurrection  or  invasion  threatened  the  peace  of 
the  town,  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  their  sons;  and, 
by  their  example  and  their  experience,  gave  encouragement 
and  strength  to  the  undisciplined  masses  who  were  present. 
One  hundred  and  thirty  men,  strong  and  true,  answered  to 
their  names;  and  John  Parker,  the  captain  of  the  beat,  at 
the  same  time  that  he  ordered  them  to  load  with  ball,  strictly 
enjoined  them  to  reserve  their  fire  until  after  the  enemy  com 
menced  the  assault.  No  sign  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy 
being  visible,  the  company  was  dismissed,  with  orders  to  re 
assemble  at  the  roll  of  the  drum. 


!64  LEXINGTON 

But  to  return  to  Boston.  Lord  Percy,  a  general  in  the 
British  service,  while  crossing  the  Common  in  the  evening, 
overtook  a  party  of  the  townsmen,  one  of  whom — probably 
recognizing  his  lordship,  and  intending  to  be  heard — re 
marked,  in  his  hearing,  "  They  will  miss  their  aim."  Percy 
inquired,  "  what  aim  "  was  referred  to,  and  was  answered, 
"Why,  the  cannon  at  Concord."  Perceiving  that  the  in 
tended  expedition  was  known  in  the  town,  Percy  hastened 
to  General  Gage  with  the  intelligence,  and  orders  were  im 
mediately  issued  to  the  sentries  on  the  Neck,  and  on  the 
different  vessels  in  the  harbour,  that  no  person  should  be  per 
mitted  to  leave  the  town  without  special  orders  from  head 
quarters.  These  orders,  as  we  have  seen,  were  issued  too 
late,  and  the  energetic  Revere  and  Dawes  were  beyond  the 
reach  of  both  the  sentries  and  the  general. 

At  length,  about  eleven  o'clock,  the  grenadiers  and  light- 
irifantry, — the  elite  of  the  army, — about  eight  hundred  in 
number,  commanded  by  Lieutenant-Colonel  Smith,  embarked 
at  the  Common  and  proceeded  up  the  Charles  River,  as  far 
as  a  place  known  as  Phipps's  Farm,  in  the  present  town  of 
West  Cambridge.  Landing  at  that  place,  they  immediately 
proceeded  on  their  way  towards  Lexington,  under  the  guid 
ance  of  several  Loyalists,  at  whose  urgent  solicitation  the 
expedition  was  planned.  In  the  selection  of  this  course  the 
enemy  was  probably  influenced  by  information  which  he  had 
received  of  the  meeting  of  the  "  Committee  of  Safety  "  at 
Menotomy  (now  West  Cambridge)  on  the  preceding  after 
noon,  and  by  hopes  which  he  entertained  on  securing  some 
of  its  members,  as  the  troops  halted  when  they  came  oppo 
site  Wetherby's  tavern,  where  the  meeting  had  been  held. 
Several  members  of  the  committee,  among  whom  were  Colo 
nels  Orne  and  Lee,  and  Elbridge  Gerry,  were  then  sleeping 
in  the  house;  and  they  barely  escaped,  in  their  night-clothes, 
by  the  back  door,  into  the  fields. 


LEXINGTON  165 

The  enemy's  approach  to  Lexington  was  announced  by 
the  firing  of  guns  and  the  ringing  of  alarm-bells ;  and  Colonel 
Smith,  perceiving  that  his  advance  into  the  country  had  be 
come  known,  immediately  detached  six  companies  of  light- 
infantry,  under  Major  Pitcairn,  of  the  marines,  with  orders 
to  press  on,  by  a  forced  march,  to  Concord,  and  secure  two 
bridges  over  the  Concord  River,  near  that  town ;  and,  at  the 
same  time,  he  sent  a  messenger  to  Boston  for  reinforcements. 
Pitcairn,  as  he  was  directed,  advanced  rapidly  towards  Lex 
ington,  capturing  several  persons  on  the  way.  One  of  these 
prisoners,  named  Thaddeus  Bowman,  escaped,  and,  hasten 
ing  to  Lexington,  informed  Captain  Parker  of  the  approach 
of  the  enemy.  The  drum  was  immediately  beat  to  arms,  and 
about  seventy,  who  were  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood, 
assembled  on  the  green,  one  half  of  whom  were  without 
arms.  Captain  Parker  ordered  those  who  were  unarmed  to 
go  into  the  meeting-house  (near  by),  equip  themselves,  and 
join  the  company;  while  those  who  were  armed,  thirty-eight 
in  number,  he  directed  to  follow  him  to  the  north  end  of  the 
green,  where  he  formed  them  in  line,  in  single  file.  Before 
those  who  were  in  the  meeting-house  could  obtain  arms  and 
ammunition,  Pitcairn  and  his  detachment  came  up;  and  the 
latter,  probably  by  design,  were  wheeled  so  as  to  cut  the  for 
mer  off,  and  prevent  them  from  joining  their  comrades  under 
Captain  Parker. 

Marching  up  by  column  of  platoons,  the  enemy  advanced 
within  fifty  feet  of  the  position  occupied  by  Captain  Parker, 
and  there  halted.  Major  Pitcairn  then  advanced  a  few  feet 
in  front  of  his  men,  brandished  his  sword,  and  shouted, 
"Lay  down  your  arms,  you  damned  rebels,  or  you  are  all 
dead  men!"  and  immediately  afterwards,  "  the  rebels"  fail 
ing  to  comply  with  his  first  order,  he  ordered  his  men  to 
"  Fire!9  The  first  platoon  discharged  their  pieces,  but  no 
one  was  hurt.  Captain  Parker  then  directed  every  man  to 


166  LEXINGTON 

take  care  of  himself,  and  they  accordingly  dispersed.  While 
they  were  retreating,  the  second  platoon  of  the  enemy  also 
fired,  killing  several  and  wounding  others. 

Accounts  of  the  affair  differ  respecting  the  use  of  their 
arms  by  the  party  under  Captain  Parker.  Some  authorities 
state  that  they  returned  the  fire  when  they  found  that  they 
were  fired  upon  while  retreating;  and  Stedman,  who  went 
out  from  Boston  with  the  reinforcement  sent  to  meet  Colonel 
Smith  on  his  return,  states  that  one  British  soldier  was 
wounded,  and  that  Major  Pitcairn's  horse  was  wounded  in 
two  places.  Many  of  those  who  were  present  state  posi 
tively  that  the  enemy's  fire  was  not  returned  by  the  Ameri 
cans;  and  thus  the  matter  rests,  from  conflict  of  testimony, 
in  great  uncertainty. 

Of  the  Americans,  the  following  were  killed:  Ensign 
Robert  Monroe,  Jonas  Parker,  Samuel  Hadley,  Jonathan 
Harrington,  Jr.,  Isaac  Muzzy,  Caleb  Harrington,  and  John 
Brown,  of  Lexington,  and  Asabel  Porter,  of  Woburn;  and 
nine  were  wounded. 

By  this  time  the  main  body,  under  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Smith,  came  up,  and  the  whole  party  pushed  on  for  Concord, 
six  miles  distant,  probably  elated  with  the  victory  which  had 
been  won  at  Lexington;  and,  more  than  ever,  convinced  of 
the  truth  of  their  insinuations  respecting  the  courage  of  the 
colonists.  Little  did  they  suppose,  however,  that  the  blood 
shed  on  the  village  green  at  Lexington,  like  that  of  the  mar 
tyrs,  was  but  a  "  seed  "  in  the  hands  of  the  husbandman, 
which  being  cast  forth,  produces  fruit  in  its  season.  Although 
not  the  first  blood  shed  in  the  cause  of  American  freedom, 
it  was  the  first  which  called  forth  the  united  opposition,  by 
armed  force,  of  the  excited  colonists,  and  broke  down  the 
wall  of  separation  which  had  so  long  divided  the  different 
sections  of  the  country — New  York  from  Virginia,  and  both 
from  New  England. 


SAN   SALVADOR 
WASHINGTON   IRVING 

TT  was  on  Friday  morning,  the  I2th  of  October,  that 
•*•  Columbus  first  beheld  the  New  World.  As  day  dawned 
he  saw  before  him  a  level  island,  several  leagues  in  extent, 
and  covered  with  trees  like  a  continual  orchard.  Though 
apparently  uncultivated,  it  was  populous,  for  the  inhabitants 
were  seen  issuing  from  all  parts  of  the  woods  and  running 
to  the  shore.  They  were  perfectly  naked;  and,  as  they 
stood  gazing  at  the  ships,  appeared  by  their  attitudes  and 
gestures  to  be  lost  in  astonishment.  Columbus  made  signal 
for  the  ships  to  cast  anchor,  and  the  boats  to  be  manned 
and  armed.  He  entered  his  own  boat  richly  attired  in  scar 
let,  and  holding  the  royal  standard;  while  Martin  Alonzo 
Pinzon  and  Vincent  Janez,  his  brother,  put  off  in  company 
in  their  boats,  each  with  a  banner  of  the  enterprise  em 
blazoned  with  a  green  cross,  having  on  either  side  the  letters 
F.  and  Y.,  the  initials  of  the  Castilian  monarchs,  Ferdinand 
and  Ysabel,  surmounted  by  crowns. 

As  he  approached  the  shore,  Columbus,  who  was  dis 
posed  for  all  kinds  of  agreeable  impressions,  was  delighted 
with  the  purity  and  suavity  of  the  atmosphere,  the  crystal 
transparency  of  the  sea  and  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the 
vegetation.  He  beheld,  also,  fruits  of  an  unknown  kind 
upon  the  trees  which  overhung  the  shores.  On  landing  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  kissed  the  earth,  and  returned 
thanks  to  God  with  tears  of  joy.  His  example  was  followed 
by  the  rest,  whose  hearts  indeed  overflowed  with  the  same 
feelings  of  gratitude.  Columbus,  then  rising,  drew  his 

167 


168  SAN   SALVADOR 

sword,  displayed  the  royal  standard,  and  assembling  round 
him  the  two  captains,  with  Rodrigo  de  Escobedo,  notary  of 
the  armament,  Rodrigo  Sanchez,  and  the  rest  who  had 
landed,  he  took  solemn  possession  in  the  name  of  the  Cas- 
tilian  sovereigns,  giving  the  island  the  name  of  San  Salva 
dor.  Having  complied  with  the  requisite  forms  and  cere 
monies,  he  called  upon  all  present  to  take  the  oath  of 
obedience  to  him,  as  admiral  and  viceroy,  representing  the 
persons  of  the  sovereigns. 

The  feelings  of  the  crew  now  burst  forth  in  the  most 
extravagant  transports.  They  had  recently  considered  them 
selves  devoted  men,  hurrying  forward  to  destruction;  they 
now  looked  upon  themselves  as  favourites  of  fortune,  and 
gave  themselves  up  to  the  most  unbounded  joy.  They 
thronged  around  the  admiral  with  overflowing  zeal,  some 
embracing  him,  others  kissing  his  hands.  Those  who  had 
been  most  mutinous  and  turbulent  during  the  voyage  were 
now  most  devoted  and  enthusiastic.  Some  begged  favours 
of  him,  as  if  he  had  already  wealth  and  honours  in  his  gift. 
Many  abject  spirits,  who  had  outraged  him  by  their  inso 
lence,  now  crouched  at  his  feet,  begging  pardon  for  all  the 
trouble  they  had  caused  him,  and  promising  the  blindest 
obedience  for  the  future. 

The  natives  of  the  island,  when,  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
they  had  beheld  the  ships  hovering  on  their  coast,  had  sup 
posed  them  monsters  which  had  issued  from  the  deep  during 
the  night.  They  had  crowded  to  the  beach  and  watched 
their  movements  with  awful  anxiety.  Their  veering  about, 
apparently  without  effort,  and  the  shifting  and  furling  of 
their  sails,  resembling  huge  wings,  filled  them  with  aston 
ishment.  When  they  beheld  their  boats  approach  the  shore, 
and  a  number  of  strange  beings  clad  in  glittering  steel,  or 
raiment  of  various  colours,  landing  upon  the  beach,  they 
fled  in  affright  to  the  woods.  Finding,  however,  that  there 


SAN   SALVADOR  169 

was  no  attempt  to  pursue  nor  molest  them,  they  gradually 
recovered  from  their  terror,  and  approached  the  Spaniards 
with  great  awe;  frequently  prostrating  themselves  on  the 
earth,  and  making  signs  of  adoration.  During  the  ceremo 
nies  of  taking  possession,  they  remained  gazing  in  timid 
admiration  at  the  complexion,  the  beards,  the  shining  ar 
mour  and  splendid  dress  of  the  Spaniards.  Columbus  par 
ticularly  attracted  their  attention,  from  his  commanding 
height,  his  air  of  authority,  his  dress  of  scarlet,  and  the 
deference  which  was  paid  to  him  by  his  companions;  all 
which  pointed  him  out  to  be  the  commander.  When  they 
had  still  further  recovered  from  their  fears,  they  approached 
the  Spaniards,  touched  their  beards,  and  examined  their  hands 
and  faces,  admiring  their  whiteness.  Columbus  was  pleased 
with  their  gentleness  and  confiding  simplicity,  and  suffered 
their  scrutiny  with  perfect  acquiescence,  winning  them  by  his 
benignity.  They  now  supposed  that  the  ships  had  sailed 
out  of  the  crystal  firmament  which  bounded  their  horizon, 
or  had  descended  from  above  on  their  ample  wings,  and  that 
these  marvellous  beings  were  inhabitants  of  the  skies. 

As  Columbus  supposed  himself  to  have  landed  on  an  island 
at  the  extremity  of  India,  he  called  the  natives  by  the  gen 
eral  appellation  of  Indians,  which  was  universally  adopted 
before  the  true  nature  of  the  discovery  was  known,  and  has 
since  been  extended  to  all  the  aboriginals  of  the  New 
World. 

The  island  where  Columbus  had  thus,  for  the  first  time, 
set  his  foot  upon  the  New  World,  was  called  by  the  natives 
Guanahane.  It  still  retains  the  name  of  San  Salvador, 
which  he  gave  to  it,  though  called  by  the  English  Cat  Island. 
The  light  which  he  had  seen  the  evening  previous  to  his 
making  land  may  have  been  on  Watling's  Island,  which 
lies  a  few  leagues  to  the  east.  San  Salvador  is  one  of  the 
great  cluster  of  the  Lucayos,  or  Bahama  Islands,  which 


170  SAN    SALVADOR 

stretch  southeast  and  northwest  from  the  coast  of  Florida 
to  Hispaniola,  covering  the  northern  coast  of  Cuba. 

On  the  morning  of  the  1 4th  of  October,  the  Admiral 
set  off  at  daybreak  with  the  boats  of  the  ship  to  reconnoitre 
the  island,  directing  his  course  to  the  northeast.  The  coast 
was  surrounded  by  a  reef  of  rocks,  within  which  there  was 
depth  of  water  and  sufficient  harbour  to  receive  all  the 
ships  in  Christendom.  The  entrance  was  very  narrow; 
within  there  were  several  sand-banks,  but  the  water  was 
as  still  as  in  a  pool. 

The  island  appeared  throughout  to  be  well  wooded,  with 
streams  of  water  and  a  large  lake  in  the  centre.  As  the 
boats  proceeded  they  passed  two  or  three  villages,  the  in 
habitants  of  which,  men  as  well  as  women,  ran  to  the 
shores,  throwing  themselves  on  the  ground,  lifting  up  their 
hands  and  eyes,  either  giving  thanks  to  heaven,  or  worship 
ping  the  Spaniards  as  supernatural  beings.  They  ran  along 
parallel  to  the  boats,  calling  after  the  Spaniards,  and  inviting 
them  by  signs  to  land,  offering  them  various  fruits  and  ves 
sels  of  water.  Finding,  however,  that  the  boats  continued 
on  their  course,  many  threw  themselves  into  the  sea  and 
swam  after  them,  and  others  followed  in  canoes.  The 
admiral  received  them  all  with  kindness,  giving  them  glass 
beads  and  other  trifles,  which  were  received  with  transports 
as  celestial  presents,  for  the  invariable  idea  of  the  savages 
was  that  the  white  men  had  come  from  the  skies. 

In  this  way  they  pursued  their  course,  until  they  came 
to  a  small  peninsula,  which  with  two  or  three  days'  labour 
might  be  separated  from  the  mainland  and  surrounded  with 
water,  and  was  therefore  specified  by  Columbus  as  an  excel 
lent  situation  for  a  fortress.  On  this  were  six  Indian  cabins, 
surrounded  by  groves  and  gardens  as  beautiful  as  those  of 
Castile.  The  sailors  being  wearied  with  rowing  and  the 
island  not  appearing  to  the  admiral  of  sufficient  importance 


SAN    SALVADOR  171 

to  induce  colonization,  he  returned  to  the  ships,  taking  seven 
of  the  natives  with  him,  that  they  might  acquire  the  Spanish 
language  and  serve  as  interpreters.  Having  taken  in  a  sup 
ply  of  wood  and  water,  they  left  the  island  of  San  Salvador 
the  same  evening,  the  admiral  being  impatient  to  arrive  at 
the  wealthy  country  to  the  south,  which  he  flattered  himself 
would  prove  the  famous  island  of  Cipango. 


WEST   POINT 
BENSON  JOHN  LOSSING 

FROM  the  brow  of  the  hill,  near  the  Cadet's  Monu 
ment,  is  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  picturesque  village 
of  Cold  Spring,  on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  occupying  a 
spacious  alluvial  slope,  bounded  by  rugged  heights  on  the 
north,  and  connected,  behind  a  range  of  quite  lofty  moun 
tains,  with  the  fertile  valleys  of  Dutchess  and  Putnam 
Counties.  We  shall  visit  it  presently.  Meanwhile  let  us 
turn  our  eyes  southward,  and  from  another  point  on  the 
margin  of  the  Cemetery,  where  a  lovely  shaded  walk  in 
vites  the  strollers  on  warm  afternoons,  survey  Camp  Town 
at  our  feet,  with  West  Point  and  the  adjacent  hills.  In  this 
view  we  see  the  Old  Landing-Place,  the  road  up  to  the  pla 
teau,  the  Laboratory  buildings,  the  Siege  Battery,  the  Hotel, 
near  the  remains  of  old  Fort  Clinton,  upon  the  highest 
ground  on  the  plain,  the  blue  dome  of  the  Chapel,  the 
turrets  of  the  great  Mess  Hall,  on  the  extreme  right,  the 
Cove,  crossed  by  the  Hudson  River  Railway,  and  the  range 
of  hills  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  river. 

Following  this  walk  to  the  entrance  gate,  we  traverse  a 
delightful  winding  road  along  the  river-bank,  picturesque 
at  every  turn,  to  the  parting  of  the  ways.  One  of  these 
leads  to  the  Point,  the  other  up  Mount  Independence,  on 
whose  summit  repose  the  grey  old  ruins  of  Fort  Putnam. 
We  had  ascended  that  winding  mountain  road  many  times 
before,  and  listened  to  the  echoes  of  the  sweet  bugle,  or  the 
deeper  voices  of  the  morning  and  evening  gun  at  the  Point. 
Now  we  were  invited  by  a  shady  path,  and  a  desire  for 

172 


WEST   POINT  173 

novelty,  from  the  road  between  Forts  Webb  and  Putnam, 
into  the  deep  rocky  gorge  between  Mount  Independence  and 
the  more  lofty  Redoubt  Hill,  to  rear  of  the  old  fortress, 
where  it  wears  the  appearance  of  a  ruined  castle  upon  a 
mountain  crag.  The  afternoon  sun  was  falling  full  upon 
the  mouldering  ruin,  and  the  chaotic  mass  of  rocks  beneath 
it;  while  the  clear  blue  sky  and  white  clouds  presented  the 
whole  group,  with  accompanying  evergreens,  in  the  boldest 
relief.  Making  our  way  back  by  another  but  more  difficult 
path,  along  the  foot  of  the  steep  acclivity,  we  soon  stood 
upon  the  broken  walls  of  Fort  Putnam,  500  feet  above  the 
river,  with  a  scene  before  us  of  unsurpassed  interest  and 
beauty,  viewed  in  the  soft  light  of  the  evening  sun.  At  our 
feet  lay  the  promontory  of  West  Point,  with  its  Military 
Academy,  the  quarters  of  the  officers  and  the  cadets,  and 
other  buildings  of  the  institution.  To  the  left  lay  Constitu 
tion  Island,  from  a  point  of  which,  where  a  ruined  wall 
now  stands,  to  the  opposite  shore  of  the  main,  a  massive 
iron  chain  was  laid  upon  floating  timbers  by  the  Americans, 
at  the  middle  of  the  old  war  for  independence.  Beyond  the 
island  arose  the  smoke  of  the  furnaces  and  forges,  the  spires, 
and  the  roofs  of  Cold  Spring.  Toward  the  left  loomed  up 
the  lofty  Mount  Taurus,  vulgarly  called  Bull  Hill,  at 
whose  base,  in  the  shadow  of  a  towering  wall  of  rock,  and 
in  the  midst  of  grand  old  trees,  nestles  Under  Cliff,  then 
the  home  of  Morris,  whose  songs  have  delighted  thousands 
in  both  hemispheres.  On  the  extreme  left  arose  old  Cro' 
Nest;  and  over  its  right  shoulder  lay  the  rugged  range  of 
Break  Neck,  dipping  to  the  river  sufficiently  to  reveal  the 
beautiful  country  beyond,  on  the  borders  of  Newburgh  Bay. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  points  of  view  on  the 
Hudson. 

Fort  Putnam  was  erected  by  the  Americans  in  1778,  for 
the  purpose  of   defending   Fort   Clinton,   on   West   Point 


WEST   POINT 

below,  and  to  more  thoroughly  secure  the  river  against  the 
passage  of  hostile  fleets.  It  was  built  under  the  direction 
of  Colonel  Rufus  Putnam,  and  chiefly  by  the  men  of  his 
Massachusetts  regiment.  It  commanded  the  river  above 
and  below  the  Point,  and  it  was  almost  impregnable,  owing 
to  its  position.  In  front,  the  mountain  is  quite  steep  for 
many  yards,  and  then  slopes  gently  to  the  plains;  while  on 
its  western  side,  a  perpendicular  wall  of  rock,  fifty  feet  in 
height,  would  have  been  presented  to  the  enemy.  Redoubts 
were  also  built  upon  other  eminences  in  the  vicinity.  These 
being  chiefly  earth-works,  have  been  almost  obliterated  by 
the  action  of  storms;  and  Fort  Putman  was  speedily  dis 
appearing  under  the  hands  of  industrious  neighbours,  who 
were  carrying  off  the  stone  for  building  purposes,  when 
the  work  of  demolition  was  arrested  by  the  Government.  Its 
remains,  consisting  of  only  broken  walls  and  two  or  three 
arched  casemates,  all  overgrown  with  vines  and  shrubbery, 
are  now  carefully  preserved.  Even  the  cool  spring  that  bub 
bles  from  the  rocks  in  its  centre,  is  kept  clear  of  choking 
leaves;  and  we  may  reasonably  hope  that  the  ruins  of  Fort 
Putnam  will  remain,  an  object  of  interest  to  the  passing 
traveller,  for  more  than  a  century  to  come. 

The  views  from  Roe's  Hotel,  on  the  extreme  northern 
verge  of  the  summit  of  the  plain  of  West  Point,  are  very 
pleasing  in  almost  every  direction.  The  one  northward, 
similar  to  that  from  the  Siege  Battery,  is  the  finest.  West 
ward  the  eye  takes  in  the  Laboratory,  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Wood's  Monument,  a  part  of  the  shaded  walk  along  the 
northern  margin  of  the  plain,  and  Mount  Independence, 
crowned  with  the  ruins  of  Fort  Putnam.  Southward  the 
view  comprehends  the  entire  Parade,  and  glimpses,  through 
the  trees,  of  the  Academy,  the  Chapel,  the  Mess  Hall,  and 
other  buildings  of  the  institution,  with  some  of  the  officers' 
quarters  and  professors'  residences  on  the  extreme  right. 


WEST   POINT  175 

The  earthworks  of  Fort  Clinton  have  recently  been  restored, 
in  their  original  form  and  general  proportions  exactly  upon 
their  ancient  site,  and  present,  with  the  beautiful  trees  grow 
ing  within  their  green  banks,  a  very  pleasant  object  from 
every  point  of  view.  The  old  fort  was  constructed  in  the 
spring  of  1778,  under  the  direction  of  the  brave  Polish  sol 
dier,  Thaddeus  Kosciuszko,  who  was  then  a  colonel  in 
the  Continental  Army,  and  chief  of  the  Engineers'  Corps. 
The  fort,  when  completed,  was  600  yards  around,  within 
the  walls.  The  embankments  were  21  feet  at  the  base 
and  14  feet  in  height.  Barracks  and  huts  sufficient  to  ac 
commodate  six  hundred  persons  were  erected  within  the 
fort.  It  stood  upon  a  cliff,  on  the  margin  of  the  plain,  180 
feet  above  the  river. 

Kosciuszko  was  much  beloved  by  the  Revolutionary 
Army,  and  his  memory  is  held  in  reverence  by  the  American 
people.  He  was  only  twenty  years  of  age  when  he  joined 
that  army.  He  had  been  educated  at  the  Military  School 
of  Warsaw.  He  had  not  completed  his  studies,  when  he 
eloped  with  a  beautiful  girl  of  high  rank.  They  were 
overtaken  by  the  maiden's  father,  who  made  a  violent  at 
tempt  to  seize  his  daughter.  The  young  Pole  was  compelled 
either  to  slay  the  father  or  abandon  the  daughter.  He  choose 
the  latter,  and  obtaining  the  permission  of  his  sovereign, 
he  went  to  France,  and  there  became  a  student  in  drawing 
and  military  science.  In  Paris  he  was  introduced  to  Dr. 
Franklin,  and,  fired  with  a  desire  to  aid  a  people  fighting 
for  independence,  he  sailed  for  America,  bearing  letters 
from  that  minister.  He  applied  to  Washington  for  em 
ployment.  "  What  do  you  seek  here?  "  asked  the  leader  of 
the  armies  of  the  revolted  colonies.  "  I  come  to  fight  as  a 
volunteer  for  American  independence,"  the  young  Pole  re 
plied.  "  What  can  you  do  ?  "  Washington  asked.  "  Try 
me,"  was  Kosciuszko's  prompt  reply.  Pleased  with  the 


176  WEST   POINT 

young  man,  Washington  took  him  into  his  military  family. 
The  Congress  soon  afterwards  appointed  him  engineer,  with 
the  rank  of  colonel.  He  returned  to  Poland  at  the  close 
of  the  Revolution,  and  was  made  a  major-general  under 
Poniatowski.  He  was  at  the  head  of  the  military  move 
ments  of  the  Revolution  in  Poland  in  1794,  and  was  made 
a  prisoner,  and  carried  to  St.  Petersburg.  This  event  caused 
Campbell  to  write : 


"  Hope  for  a  season  bade  the  earth  farewell, 
And  freedom  shrieked  when  Kosciuszko  fell." 


After  the  Empress  Catherine  died,  the  Emperor  Paul  lib 
erated  him,  offered  him  command  in  the  Russian  service, 
and  presented  him  with  his  own  sword.  He  declined  it, 
saying,  "  I  no  longer  need  a  sword,  since  I  have  no  longer 
a  country  to  defend."  He  revisited  the  United  States  in 
1797,  when  the  Congress  granted  him  land  in  considera 
tion  of  his  services.  He  afterwards  lived  in  Switzerland, 
and  there  he  died  in  1817.  A  public  funeral  was  made  for 
him  at  Warsaw.  Twelve  years  afterwards,  the  cadets  at 
West  Point,  actuated  by  love  for  the  man  and  reverence  for 
his  deeds,  erected  a  beautiful  marble  monument  to  his  mem 
ory,  within  the  ruins  of  old  Fort  Clinton,  at  a  cost  of  about 
$5000.  It  bears  upon  one  side  the  name  of  "  KOSCIUSZKO," 
and  on  another,  the  simple  inscription.  "  Erected  by  the 
Corps  of  Cadets,  1828."  It  is  a  conspicuous  and  pleasing 
object  to  voyagers  upon  the  river. 

Passing  along  the  verge  of  the  cliffs,  southward  from 
Kosciuszko's  monument,  the  visitor  soon  reaches  another 
memorial  stone.  It  is  of  white  marble,  the  chief  member 
being  a  fluted  column,  entwined  by  a  laurel  wreath,  held 
in  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  perched  upon  its  top.  The  pedestal 
is  of  temple  form,  square,  with  a  row  of  encircling  stars 


WEST   POINT  177 

upon  its  entablature,  and  a  cannon,  like  a  supporting  col 
umn,  at  each  corner.  It  was  erected  to  commemorate  a 
battle  fought  between  a  detachment  of  United  States  troops 
under  Major  Frances  L.  Dade,  and  a  party  of  Seminole 
Indians,  in  the  Everglades  of  Florida,  on  the  a8th  of  De 
cember,  1835. 

A  few  feet  from  Dade's  Command's  Monument,  a 
narrow  path,  through  a  rocky  passage,  overhung  with  boughs 
and  shrubbery,  leads  down  to  a  pleasant  terrace  in  the  steep 
bank  of  the  river,  which  is  called  Kosciuszko's  Garden.  At 
the  back  of  the  terrace  the  rock  rises  perpendicularly,  and 
from  its  outer  edge  descends  as  perpendicularly  to  the  river. 
This  is  said  to  have  been  Kosciuszko's  favourite  place  of  re 
sort  for  reading  and  meditation,  while  he  was  at  West  Point. 
He  found  a  living  spring  bubbling  from  the  rocks,  in  the 
middle  of  the  terrace,  and  there  he  constructed  a  pretty 
little  fountain.  Its  ruins  were  discovered  in  1802,  and  re 
paired.  The  water  now  rises  into  a  marble  basin.  Seats 
have  been  provided  for  visitors,  ornamental  shrubs  have 
been  planted,  and  the  whole  place  wears  an  aspect  of  mingled 
romance  and  beauty.  A  deep  circular  indention  in  the  rock 
back  of  the  fountain  was  made,  tradition  affirms,  by  a  can 
non-ball  sent  from  a  British  ship,  while  the  Polish  soldier 
was  occupying  his  accustomed  loitering-place,  reading  Vau- 
ban,  and  regaled  by  the  perfume  of  roses.  From  this  quiet, 
solitary  retreat,  a  pathway,  appropriately  called  Flirtation 
Walk,  leads  up  to  the  plain. 

A  short  distance  from  Kosciuszko's  Garden,  upon  a  higher 
terrace,  is  Battery  Knox,  constructed  by  the  cadets.  It  com 
mands  a  fine  view  of  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Hudson,  in 
the  Highlands,  and  down  the  river  to  Anthony's  Nose. 
Near  by  are  seen  the  Cavalry  Stables  and  the  Cavalry  Exer 
cise  Hall,  belonging  to  the  Military  School ;  and  below  there 
is  seen  the  modern  West  Point  Landing.  A  little  higher 


178  WEST   POINT 

up,  on  the  plain,  are  the  groups  of  spacious  edifices  used  for 
the  purposes  of  the  institution. 

West  Point  was  indicated  by  Washington,  as  early  as 
1783,  as  an  eligible  place  for  a  military  academy.  In 
his  message  to  Congress  in  1793,  he  recommended  the 
establishment  of  one  at  West  Point.  The  subject  rested 
until  1802,  when  Congress  made  provision  by  law  for  such 
an  institution  there.  Very  little  progress  was  made  in  the 
matter  until  the  year  1812,  when,  by  another  act  of  Con 
gress,  a  corps  of  engineers  and  professors  were  organized, 
and  the  school  was  endowed  with  the  most  attractive  fea 
tures  of  a  literary  institution,  mingled  with  that  of  a 
military  character.  From  that  time  until  the  present,  the 
academy  has  been  increasing  in  importance,  as  the  nursery 
of  army  officers  and  skilful  practical  engineers. 

The  buildings  of  the  West  Point  Military  Academy  con 
sisted,  at  the  time  we  are  considering,  of  cadets'  barracks, 
cadets'  guard-house,  academy,  mess-hall,  hospital  for  cadets, 
chapel,  observatory,  and  library,  artillery  laboratory,  hos 
pital  for  troops,  equipment  shed,  engineers'  troops  barracks, 
post  guard-house,  dragoons'  barracks,  cavalry  exercise  hall, 
cavalry  stables,  powder  magazine,  the  quarters  oi  the  offi 
cers  and  professors  of  the  academy,  workshops,  commissary 
of  the  cadets'  and  sutler's  store,  shops  and  cottages  for  the 
accommodation  of  non-commissioned  officers  and  their  fami 
lies,  laundresses  of  the  cadets,  etc.  The  principal  edifices 
are  built  of  granite. 

The  post  is  under  the  general  command  of  a  superinten 
dent,  who  bears  the  rank  of  brevet-colonel.  The  average 
number  of  cadets  was  about  two  hundred  and  fifty.  Candi 
dates  for  admission  are  selected  by  the  War  Department  at 
Washington  City,  and  they  are  required  to  report  themselves 
for  examination  to  the  superintendent  of  the  academy  be 
tween  the  first  and  twentieth  day  of  June.  None  are  ad- 


WEST   POINT  179 

mitted  who  are  less  than  sixteen  or  more  than  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  who  are  less  than  five  feet  in  height,  or  who 
are  deformed  or  otherwise  unfit  for  military  duty.  Each 
cadet,  on  a  mission,  is  obliged  to  subscribe  his  name  to  an 
agreement  to  serve  in  the  army  of  the  United  States  four 
years,  in  addition  to  his  four  years  of  instruction,  unless 
sooner  discharged  by  competent  authority. 

The  course  of  instruction  consists  of  infantry  tactics  and 
military  policy,  mathematics,  the  French  language,  natural 
philosophy,  drawing,  chemistry,  mineralogy,  artillery  tac 
tics,  the  science  of  gunnery,  and  the  duties  of  a  military 
laboratory,  engineering  and  the  science  of  war,  geography, 
history  and  ethics,  the  use  of  the  sword,  and  cavalry  exer 
cise  and  tactics.  The  rules  and  regulations  of  the  academy 
are  very  strict  and  salutary,  and  the  instruction  in  all  de 
partments  is  thorough  and  complete. 

The  road  from  the  plain  to  the  landing  at  West  Point 
was  cut  from  the  steep,  rocky  bank  of  the  river,  at  a  heavy 
expense  to  the  government. 

A  steam  ferry-boat  connects  West  Point  with  the  Garri 
son  Station  of  the  Hudson  River  Railway  opposite.  Near 
the  latter  is  the  old  ferry-place  of  the  Revolution,  where 
troops  crossed  to  and  from  West  Point.  Here  Washington 
crossed  on  the  morning  when  General  Arnold's  treason  was 
discovered,  and  here  he  held  a  most  anxious  consultation 
with  Colonel  Hamilton  when  the  event  was  suspected. 

We  crossed  the  ferry  to  Garrison's  and  from  the  road 
near  the  station  obtained  a  pleasant  view  of  West  Point, 
glimpses  of  the  principal  buildings  there,  and  the  range  of 
lofty  hills  beyond,  which  form  the  group  of  the  Cro5  Nest 
and  the  Storm  King.  Following  a  winding  road  up  the  east 
bank  of  the  river  from  this  point,  we  came  to  a  mill,  almost 
hidden  among  the  trees  at  the  head  of  a  dark  ravine,  through 
which  flows  a  clear  mountain  stream  called  Kedron  Brook, 


180  WEST   POINT 

wherefore  I  could  not  learn,  for  there  is  no  resemblance  to 
Jerusalem  or  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat  near.  It  is  a  portion 
of  the  beautiful  estate  of  Ardinia,  the  property  of  Richard 
Arden,  Esq.  His  son,  Lieutenant  Thomas  Arden,  a  gradu 
ate  of  the  West  Point  Military  Academy,  owns  and  occu 
pies  Beverly,  near  by,  the  former  residence  of  Colonel  Bev 
erly  Robinson  (an  eminent  American  loyalist  during  the  war 
for  independence),  and  the  headquarters  of  General  Bene 
dict  Arnold  at  the  time  of  his  treason.  It  is  situated  upon 
a  broad  and  fertile  terrace,  at  the  foot  of  Sugar-Loaf  Moun 
tain,  one  of  the  eastern  ranges  of  the  Highlands,  which  rises 
eight  hundred  feet  above  the  plain. 

General  Arnold  was  at  the  Mansion  of  Colonel  Robin 
son  (Beverly  House)  on  the  morning  of  the  24th  of  Sep 
tember,  1780,  fully  persuaded  that  his  treasonable  plans  for 
surrendering  West  Point  and  its  dependencies  into  the  hands 
of  Sir  Henry  Clinton,  the  British  commander-in-chief, — 
then  in  possession  of  New  York, — for  the  consideration  of 
a  brigadier's  commission  in  the  British  army,  and  .£10,000 
in  gold,  were  working  prosperously. 

Major  Andre,  Arnold's  immediate  accomplice  in  trea 
sonable  designs,  had,  in  a  personal  interview,  arranged  the 
details  of  the  wicked  bargain,  and  left  for  New  York. 
Arnold  believed  he  had  arrived  there  in  safety,  with  all 
requisite  information  for  Sir  Henry;  and  that  before  Wash 
ington's  return  from  Connecticut,  whither  he  had  gone  to 
hold  a  conference  with  Rochambeau  and  other  French  offi 
cers,  Clinton  would  have  sailed  up  the  Hudson  and  taken 
possession  of  the  Highland  fortresses.  But  Andre  did  not 
reach  New  York.  He  was  captured  on  his  way,  by  militia 
men,  as  a  suspicious-looking  traveller.  Evidences  of  his 
character  as  a  spy  were  found  upon  his  person,  and  he  was 
(detained.  Washington  returned  sooner  than  Arnold  ex 
pected  him.  To  the  surprise  of  the  traitor,  Hamilton  and 


WEST  POINT  181 

Lafayette  reached  the  Beverly  House  early  on  the  morning 
of  the  24th,  and  announced  that  Washington  had  turned 
down  to  the  West  Point  Ferry,  and  would  be  with  them 
soon.  At  breakfast  Arnold  received  a  letter  from  an  officer 
below,  saying,  "  Major  Andre,  of  the  British  Army,  is  a 
prisoner  in  my  custody."  The  traitor  had  reason  to  expect 
that  evidences  of  his  own  guilt  might  arrive  at  any  moment. 
He  concealed  his  emotions.  With  perfect  coolness  he  or 
dered  a  horse  to  be  made  ready,  alleging  that  his  presence 
was  needed  "  over  the  river  "  immediately.  He  then  left 
the  table,  went  into  the  great  passage,  and  hurried  up  the 
broad  staircase  to  his  wife's  chamber.  In  brief  and  hurried 
words  he  told  her  that  they  must  instantly  part,  perhaps 
forever,  for  his  life  depended  on  his  reaching  the  enemy's 
lines  without  detection.  Horror  stricken,  the  poor  young 
creature,  but  one  year  a  mother,  and  not  two  a  wife,  swooned 
and  sank  senseless  upon  the  floor.  Arnold  dare  not  call  for 
assistance,  but  kissing,  with  lips  blasted  by  words  of  guilt 
and  treason,  his  boy,  then  sleeping  in  angel  innocence  and 
purity,  he  rushed  from  the  room,  mounted  a  horse,  hastened 
to  the  river,  flung  himself  into  his  barge,  and  directing 
th'e  six  oarsmen  to  row  swiftly  down  the  Hudson,  escaped 
to  the  Vulture,  a  British  sloop-of-war,  lying  far  below. 


THE   ACQUISITION    OF   LOUISIANA 
JACQUES   DE   LA   METAIRIE  * 

To  all  those  to  whom  these  presents  shall  come,  greeting: 
— Know,  that,  having  been  requested  by  the  said  Sieur  de 
la  Salle  to  deliver  to  him  an  act,  signed  by  us  and  by  the 
witnesses  therein  named,  of  possession  by  him  taken  of  the 
country  of  Louisiana,  near  the  three  mouths  of  the  River 
Colbert,  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  on  the  gth  of  April,  1682. 

In  the  name  of  the  most  high,  mighty,  invincible,  and 
victorious  Prince,  Louis  the  Great,  by  the  Grace  of  God, 
King  of  France  and  of  Navarre,  Fourteenth  of  that  name, 
and  of  his  heirs,  and  the  successor  of  his  crown,  we,  the 
aforesaid  Notary,  have  delivered  the  said  act  to  the  said 
Sieur  de  la  Salle,  the  tenor  whereof  follows: 

On  the  27th  of  December,  1681,  M.  de  la  Salle  departed 
on  foot  to  join  M.  de  Tonty,  who  had  preceded  him  with 
his  followers  and  all  his  equipage  forty  leagues  into  the 
Miami's  country,  where  the  ice  on  the  River  Chekagou,  in 
the  country  of  the  Mascoutens,  had  arrested  his  progress, 
and  where,  when  the  ice  became  stronger,  they  used  sledges 
to  drag  the  baggage,  the  canoes,  and  a  wounded  Frenchman, 
through  the  whole  length  of  this  river,  and  on  the  Illinois, 
a  distance  of  seventy  leagues. 

At  length,  all  the  French  being  together,  on  the  25th  of 

1  Notary  of  Fort  Frontenac  in  New  France,  commissioned  to 
exercise  the  said  function  of  Notary  during  the  voyage  to  Louisiana 
in  North  America  by  M.  de  la  Salle,  Governor  of  Fort  Frontenac 
for  the  King,  and  commandant  of  his  Majesty  given  at  St.  Ger 
main,  on  the  i2th  of  May,  1678. 

182 


THE   ACQUISITION   OF   LOUISIANA          183 

January,  1682,  we  came  to  Pimiteoui.  From  that  place, 
the  river  being  frozen  only  in  some  parts,  we  continued  our 
route  to  the  River  Colbert,  sixty  leagues,  or  thereabouts, 
from  Pimiteoui,  and  ninety  leagues,  or  thereabouts,  from 
the  village  of  the  Illinois.  We  reached  the  banks  of  the 
River  Colbert  on  the  6th  of  January,  and  remained  there 
until  the  I3th,  waiting  for  the  savages,  whose  progress  had 
been  impeded  by  the  ice.  On  the  I3th,  all  having  assembled, 
we  renewed  our  voyage,  being  twenty-two  French,  carrying 
arms,  accompanied  by  the  Reverend  Father  Zenobe  Membre, 
one  of  the  Recollect  Missionaries,  and  followed  by  eighteen 
New  England  savages,  and  several  women,  Ilgonquines, 
Otchipoises  and  Huronnes.  On  the  I4th,  we  arrived  at  the 
village  of  Maroa,  consisting  of  a  hundred  cabins,  without 
inhabitants.  Proceeding  about  a  hundred  leagues  down  the 
River  Colbert,  we  went  ashore  to  hunt  on  the  26th  of 
February.  A  Frenchman  was  lost  in  the  woods,  and  it  was 
reported  to  M.  de  la  Salle,  that  a  large  number  of  savages 
had  been  seen  in  the  vicinity.  Thinking  that  they  might 
have  seized  the  Frenchman,  and  in  order  to  observe  these 
savages,  he  marched  through  the  woods  during  two  days, 
but  without  finding  them,  because  they  had  all  been  fright 
ened  by  the  guns  which  they  had  heard,  and  had  fled. 

Returning  to  camp,  he  sent  in  every  direction  French 
and  savages  on  the  search,  with  orders,  if  they  fell  in  with 
savages,  to  take  them  alive  without  injury,  that  he  might 
gain  from  them  intelligence  of  this  Frenchman.  Gabriel 
Barbie,  with  two  savages,  having  met  five  of  the  Chikacha 
nation,  captured  two  of  them.  They  were  received  with 
all  possible  kindness,  and,  after  he  had  explained  to  them 
that  he  was  anxious  about  a  Frenchman  who  had  been  lost, 
and  that  he  only  detained  them  that  he  might  rescue  him 
from  their  hands,  if  he  was  really  among  them,  and  after 
wards  make  with  them  an  advantageous  peace  (the  French 


184         THE   ACQUISITION    OF   LOUISIANA 

doing  good  to  everybody),  they  assured  him  that  they  had 
not  seen  the  man  whom  we  sought,  but  that  peace  would  be 
received  with  the  greatest  satisfaction.  Presents  were  then 
given  to  them,  and  as  they  had  signified  that  one  of  their 
villages  was  not  more  than  half  a  day's  journey  distant,  M. 
de  la  Salle  set  out  the  next  day  to  go  thither;  but,  after 
travelling  till  night,  and  having  remarked  that  they  often 
contradicted  themselves  in  their  discourse,  he  declined  going 
farther  without  more  provisions.  Having  pressed  them  to 
tell  the  truth,  they  confessed  that  it  was  yet  four  days'  jour 
ney  to  their  villages;  and  perceiving  that  M.  de  la  Salle 
was  angry  at  having  been  deceived,  they  proposed  that  one 
of  them  should  remain  with  him,  while  the  other  carried 
the  news  to  the  village,  whence  the  elders  would  come  and 
join  them  four  days'  journey  below  that  place.  The  said 
Sieur  de  la  Salle  returned  to  the  camp  with  one  of  these 
Chikachas;  and  the  Frenchman,  whom  we  sought,  having 
been  found,  he  continued  his  voyage,  and  passed  the  river 
of  the  Chepontias,  and  the  village  of  the  Metsigameas. 
The  fog,  which  was  very  thick,  prevented  his  finding  the 
passage  which  led  to  the  rendez-vous  proposed  by  the  Chik 
achas. 

On  the  1 2th  of  March,  we  arrived  at  the  Kapaha  village 
of  Akansa.  Having  established  a  peace  there,  and  taken 
possession,  we  passed,  on  the  I5th,  another  of  their  villages, 
situate  on  the  border  of  their  river,  and  also  two  others, 
farther  off  in  the  depth  of  the  forest,  and  arrived  at  that 
of  Imaha,  the  largest  village  in  this  nation,  where  peace 
was  confirmed,  and  where  the  chief  acknowledged  that  the 
village  belonged  to  his  Majesty.  Two  Akansas  embarked 
with  M.  de  la  Salle  to  conduct  him  to  the  Talusas,  their 
allies,  about  fifty  leagues  distant,  who  inhabit  eight  villages 
upon  the  borders  of  a  little  lake.  On  the  igth  we  passed 
the  villages  of  Tourika,  Jason,  and  Kouera;  but  as  they 


THE   ACQUISITION   OF   LOUISIANA          185 

did  not  border  on  the  river,  and  were  hostile  to  the  Akanas 
and  Taensas,  we  did  not  stop  there. 

On  the  2Oth,  we  arrived  at  the  Taensas,  by  whom  we 
were  exceedingly  well  received,  and  supplied  with  a  large 
quantity  of  provisions.  M.  de  Tonty  passed  a  night  at  one 
of  their  villages,  where  there  were  about  seven  hundred 
men  carrying  arms  assembled  in  the  place.  Here  again  a 
peace  was  concluded.  A  peace  was  also  made  with  the 
Koroas,  whose  chief  came  there  from  the  principal  village 
of  the  Koroas,  two  leagues  distant  from  that  of  the  Natches. 
The  two  chiefs  accompanied  M.  de  la  Salle  to  the  banks 
of  the  river.  Here  the  Koroa  chief  embarked  with  him,  to 
conduct  him  to  his  village,  where  peace  was  again  concluded 
with  this  nation,  which,  besides  the  five  other  villages  of 
which  it  is  composed,  is  allied  to  nearly  forty  others.  On 
the  3 1st,  we  passed  the  village  of  the  Oumas  without  know 
ing  it,  on  account  of  the  fog,  and  its  distance  from  the 
river. 

On  the  3d  of  April,  at  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
we  saw  among  the  canes  thirteen  or  fourteen  canoes.  M. 
de  la  Salle  landed,  with  several  of  his  people.  Footprints 
were  seen,  and  also  savages,  a  little  lower  down,  who  were 
fishing,  and  who  fled  precipitately  as  soon  as  they  discovered 
us.  Others  of  our  party  then  went  ashore  on  the  borders 
of  a  marsh  formed  by  the  inundation  of  the  river.  M.  de 
la  Salle  sent  two  Frenchmen,  and  then  two  savages  to  re 
connoitre,  who  reported  that  there  was  a  village  not  far  off, 
but  that  the  whole  of  this  marsh,  covered  with  canes,  must 
be  crossed  to  reach  it;  that  they  had  been  assailed  with  a 
shower  of  arrows  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  town,  who  had 
not  dared  to  engage  with  them  in  the  marsh,  but  who  had 
then  withdrawn,  although  neither  the  French  nor  the  sav 
ages  with  them  had  fired,  on  account  of  the  orders  they  had 
received  not  to  act  unless  in  pressing  danger.  Presently 


186         THE   ACQUISITION    OF   LOUISIANA 

we  heard  a  drum  beat  in  the  village,  and  cries  and  howlings 
with  which  these  barbarians  are  accustomed  to  make  attacks. 
We  waited  three  or  four  hours,  and,  as  we  could  not  encamp 
in  this  marsh,  and  seeing  no  one,  and  no  longer  hearing 
anything,  we  embarked. 

An  hour  afterwards  we  came  to  the  village  of  Maheo- 
nala,  lately  destroyed,  and  containing  dead  bodies  and  marks 
of  blood.  Two  leagues  below  this  place  we  encamped.  We 
continued  our  voyage  till  the  6th,  when  we  discovered  three 
channels  by  which  the  River  Colbert  discharges  itself  into 
the  sea.  We  landed  on  the  bank  of  the  western  channel, 
about  three  leagues  from  its  mouth.  On  the  7th,  M.  de  la 
Salle  went  to  reconnoitre  the  shores  of  the  neighbouring 
sea,  and  M.  de  Tonty  likewise  examined  the  great  middle 
channel.  They  found  these  two  outlets  beautiful,  large,  and 
deep.  On  the  8th  we  reascended  the  river,  a  little  above 
its  confluence  with  the  sea,  to  find  a  dry  place,  beyond  the 
reach  of  inundations.  The  elevation  of  the  North  Pole 
was  here  about  twenty-seven  degrees.  Here  we  prepared 
a  column  and  a  cross,  and  to  the  said  column  we  affixed  the 
arms  of  France,  with  this  inscription: 

LOUIS  LE  GRAND,  RIO  DE  FRANCE  ET  DE  NAVARRE, 
REGNE;  LE  NEUVIEME,  AVRIL,  1682. 

The  whole  party,  under  arms,  chanted  the  Te  Deum,  the 
Exaudiat,  the  Domine  salvum  fac  Regem;  and  then,  after 
a  salute  of  firearms  and  cries  of  Vive  le  Roi,  the  column 
was  erected  by  M.  de  la  Salle,  who,  standing  near  it,  said 
with  a  loud  voice  in  French :  "  In  the  name  of  the  most 
high,  mighty,  invincible,  and  victorious  Prince,  Louis  the 
Great,  by  the  Grace  of  God,  King  of  France  and  of  Na 
varre,  Fourteenth  of  that  name,  this  ninth  day  of  April, 
one  thousand  six  hundred  and  eighty-two,  I,  in  virtue  of 


THE   ACQUISITION    OF   LOUISIANA          187 

the  commission  of  his  Majesty,  which  I  hold  in  my  hand 
and  which  may  be  seen  by  all  whom  it  may  concern,  have 
taken,  and  do  now  take,  in  the  name  of  his  Majesty  and 
of  his  successors  to  the  crown,  possession  of  this  country  of 
Louisiana,  the  seas,  harbours,  ports,  bays,  adjacent  straits; 
and  all  the  nations,  people,  provinces,  cities,  towns,  villages, 
mines,  minerals,  fisheries,  streams,  and  rivers,  comprised  in 
the  extent  of  the  said  Louisiana,  from  the  mouth  of  the 
great  river  St.  Louis,  on  the  eastern  side,  otherwise  called 
Ohio,  Alighin,  Sipore,  or  Chukagona,  and  this  with  the 
consent  of  the  Chaouanons,  Chikachas,  and  other  people 
dwelling  therein,  with  whom  we  have  made  alliance;  as 
also  along  the  River  Colbert,  or  Misissippi,  and  rivers  which 
discharge  themselves  therein,  from  its  source  beyond  the 
country  of  the  Kious  or  Nadouessious,  and  this  with  their 
consent,  and  with  the  consent  of  the  Motantees,  Ilinois, 
Mesigameas,  Natches,  Kouoas,  which  are  the  most  consid 
erable  nations  dwelling  therein,  with  whom  also  we  have 
made  alliance  either  by  ourselves,  or  by  others  in  our  behalf ; 
as  far  as  its  mouth  at  the  sea,  or  Gulf  of  Mexico,  about  the 
twenty-seventh  degree  of  the  elevation  of  the  North  Pole,  and 
also  to  the  mouth  of  the  River  of  Palms ;  upon  the  assurance, 
which  we  have  received  from  all  these  nations,  that  we  are 
the  first  Europeans  who  have  descended  or  ascended  the  said 
River  Colbert;  hereby  protesting  against  all  those,  who  may 
in  future  undertake  to  invade  any  or  all  of  these  countries, 
people,  or  lands,  above  described,  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
right  of  his  Majesty,  acquired  by  the  consent  of  the  nations 
herein  named.  Of  which,  and  of  all  that  can  be  needed,  I 
hereby  take  to  witness  those  who  hear  me,  and  demand  an 
act  of  the  Notary,  as  required  by  law.'* 

To  which  the  whole  assembly  responded  with  shouts  of 
Vive  le  Roi,  and  with  salutes  of  firearms.  Moreover,  the 
said  Sieur  de  la  Salle  caused  to  be  buried  at  the  foot  of 


188         THE   ACQUISITION    OF   LOUISIANA 

the  tree,  to  which  the  cross  was  attached,  a  leaden  plate,  on 
one  side  of  which  were  engraved  the  arms  of  France,  and 
the  following  Latin  inscription: 

LVDOVICVS  MAGNVS  REGNAT. 

NONO  APRILIS  CIO  IOC  LXXXII. 

ROBERTVS  CAVELIER,  CVM  DOMINO  DE  TONTY, 
LEGATO,  R.  P.  ZENOBIO  MEMBRE,  RECOL- 
LECTO,  ET  VIGINTI  GALLIS,  PRIMVS  HOC 
FLVMEN,  INDE  AB  ILINEORVM  PAGO,  ENAVI- 
GAVIT,  EJVSQVE  OSTIVM  FECIT  PERVIVM, 
NONO  APRILIS  ANNI  CID  IOC  LXXXII. 

After  which,  the  Sieur  de  la  Salle  said,  that  his  Majesty, 
as  eldest  son  of  the  Church,  would  annex  no  country  to  his 
crown,  without  making  it  his  chief  care  to  establish  the 
Christian  religion  therein,  and  that  its  symbol  must  now  be 
planted;  which  was  accordingly  done  at  once  by  erecting 
a  cross,  before  which  the  Vexilla  and  the  Domine  salvum  fac 
Regem  were  sung.  Whereupon  the  ceremony  was  con 
cluded  with  cries  of  Vive  le  Roi. 

Of  all  and  every  of  the  above,  the  said  Sieur  de  la  Salle 
having  required  of  us  an  instrument,  we  have  delivered  to 
him  the  same,  signed  by  us,  and  by  the  undersigned  wit 
nesses,  this  ninth  day  of  April,  one  thousand  six  hundred 
and  eighty-two. 

LA  METAIRIE, 

Notary. 

De  la  Salle;  P.  Zenobe,  Recollect  Missionary;  Henry  de 
Tonty;  Francois  de  Boisrondet;  Jean  Bourdon;  Sieur 
d'Autray;  Jacques  Cauchois;  Pierre  You;  Gilles  Meucret; 
Jean  Michel,  Surgeon;  Jean  Mas;  Jean  Dulignon;  Nicolas 
de  la  Salle. 


GETTYSBURG 
JAMES   SCHOULER 

GETTYSBURG— to  the  Southern  cause  "a  glorious 
field  of  grief  " — lies  in  a  peaceful  pastoral  region, 
walled  in  on  the  west  by  the  blue  line  of  the  South  Moun 
tain  range,  and  studded  throughout  its  landscape  by  lesser 
hills.  Nearly  as  the  same  longitude  as  Washington,  it  is 
situated  in  Pennsylvania  not  far  north  of  the  Maryland 
border.  Here  the  Chambersburg  and  Hagerstown  roads 
cross  one  another  and  diverge;  while  a  valley,  highly  culti 
vated,  with  grain  fields  and  orchards,  lies  slumbering  with 
thrifty  farmhouses  between  two  nearly  parallel  ranges  of 
hills — Seminary  Ridge  on  the  west  (near  which  stands  a 
Lutheran  seminary) ,  and,  on  the  southeast,  Cemetery  Ridge, 
one  of  whose  hills  is  consecrated  for  burial  purposes.  This 
latter  range  begins  in  a  bold  and  rocky  cliff,  called  Gulp's 
Hill,  at  whose  southerly  extremity  towers  a  conical  and  com 
manding  rock,  Round  Top,  crowned  with  a  smaller  spur, 
called  Little  Round  Top,  which  overlooks  the  surrounding 
country.  Midway  in  the  peaceful  valley  is  a  lower  inter 
mediate  ridge,  along  which  runs  the  road  to  Emmitsburg. 
Upon  this  natural  theatre  was  fought  the  desperate  three 
days'  battle  to  be  described,  in  the  hot  and  exhausting 
weather  of  midsummer. 

Learning  from  Couch  that  Lee's  army  had  turned  away 
from  the  Susquehanna  River,  Meade,  before  dawn  of  July 
1st,  arranged  for  a  defensive  line  of  battle  along  Pike's 
Creek,  there  to  await  the  enemy's  approach.  But  Reynolds 
had  gone  leisurely  on  in  advance  to  occupy  the  obscure  town 
of  Gettysburg,  having  in  command  the  First,  Third,  and 

189 


I9o  GETTYSBURG 

Eleventh  Corps,  the  left  grand  division  of  Meade's  army. 
Buford,  who  had  taken  possession  of  this  town  with  his 
cavalry  the  day  before,  and  thrown  out  pickets,  encountered 
on  the  Chambersburg  road  a  fragment  of  the  enemy's  ad 
vancing  host.  He  despatched  the  tidings  at  once  to  Rey 
nolds,  who  dashed  forward  on  horseback,  on  that  memorable 
morning  with  his  First  corps  following  fast  on  foot,  and 
sent  word  for  the  rest  of  his  command,  now  miles  in  the 
rear,  to  hasten  up  quickly.  After  an  anxious  survey  with 
Buford  from  the  belfry  of  the  Lutheran  seminary,  Reynolds 
resolved  upon  the  morning's  work.  Here  a  battle  might 
well  be  risked;  here  the  instant  duty  was  to  keep  back 
that  oncoming  wave  until  Meade  could  mass  his  host  to 
break  it.  With  a  higher  mandate  before  his  eyes,  the  letter 
of  his  written  directions  seems  to  have  been  disregarded. 
"  Heth's  Conferedate  division  approached  in  force  from  the 
west;  and  while  Reynolds  held  it  watchfully  in  check  on 
the  Chambersburg  road,  that  devoted  officer  was  shot  dead 
by  a  bullet  through  his  brain.  His  glory  on  this  field  was 
first  and  greatest,  yet  others  were  to  win  glory  there  before 
the  fight  ended.  Doubleday  now  took  charge,  with  such 
of  the  First  corps  as  had  arrived,  and  the  fighting  began  in 
earnest.  From  ten  in  the  forenoon  for  three  long  hours 
the  First  corps  alone,  with  Buford's  cavalry,  bore  the  brunt 
of  the  enemy's  advance,  and  forced  A.  P.  Hill  to  wait  for 
Ewell.  The  Confederates,  largely  reinforced,  were  pressing 
hotly  when,  about  two  o'clock,  Howard  arrived  with  his 
Eleventh  corps,  and,  by  virtue  of  his  rank,  assumed  direc 
tion.  He  deployed  at  once  to  hold  the  two  western  roads  to 
the  left,  while  on  the  right  confronting  Ewell's  phalanx, 
which  came  into  view  on  the  road  from  Carlisle.  But  the 
Union  line  had  extended  too  far;  and  Ewell,  assailing  it  sim 
ultaneously  in  front  and  on  the  exposed  flanks,  won  an  easy 
victory;  for  in  both  numbers  and  position  the  Confederates 


GETTYSBURG  191 

had  now  the  advantage.  Howard's  column  was  pressed 
back  into  the  town  and  through  it,  closely  pursued,  and 
suffering  much  in  wounded  and  captured.  But  before  this 
misfortune,  Howard  had  taken  the  precaution  to  secure 
Cemetery  Hill,  which  made  a  strong  refuge  place  for  posting 
anew  his  retreating  troops  as  they  poured  southward.  At 
this  juncture,  and  toward  four  in  the  afternoon,  Hancock 
arrived  on  the  scene,  sent  thither  by  Meade  to  assume  com 
mand  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Reynolds,  whose  tidings 
reached  him.  Hancock's  splendid  presence  at  this  discour 
aging  moment  was  like  that  of  another  army  corps,  and 
gave  calmness  and  confidence  to  our  exhausted  soldiery. 
He  checked  the  fighting  and  received  the  disorganized  regi 
ments  as  they  arrived.  Howard,  though  demurring  at  the 
authority  given  by  Meade  to  one  who  was,  in  lineal  rank, 
his  junior,  co-operated  generously  in  restoring  order.  The 
two  arranged  together  a  new  position  on  Cemetery  Hill 
and  along  the  Ridge,  impregnable  to  further  assault  for  the 
day,  and  covering  Gettysburg  and  the  roads  from  Baltimore 
and  the  south.  Slocum  now  reached  the  scene  with  Sickle's 
dusty  veterans  of  the  Third  corps,  who  had  been  marching  all 
day  by  the  Emmitsburg  road.  To  him,  as  ranking  officer, 
the  command  was  turned  over,  and  Hancock  galloped  back  to 
urge  upon  Meade  the  advantage  of  this  new  field  of  battle. 
Meade,  while  taken  unawares,  had  not  hesitated  what 
course  to  pursue;  and,  though  but  three  days  in  command 
of  this  great  army,  He  relinquished  one  plan  to  take  up 
another,  and  moved  his  whole  force  promptly  to  the  rescue. 
All  night,  and  by  every  road  of  approach,  the  Union  troops 
came  swarming  in  from  the  southward  and  marched  to  their 
positions  under  the  light  of  the  full  moon.  Meade  himself 
came  upon  the  field  at  one  o'clock  the  next  morning,  pale, 
hollow-eyed,  worn  with  toil  and  loss  of  sleep,  yet  rising  to 
the  measure  of  his  responsibilities. 


I92  GETTYSBURG 

Lee,  at  the  opposite  entrance  to  Gettysburg,  had  arrived 
on  the  first,  in  season  to  watch  from  Seminary  Ridge  the 
new  position  which  his  flying  foe  was  taking.  His  mind 
was  not  yet  made  up  to  fight  an  offensive  battle;  for,  im 
pressed  by  the  steadiness  of  this  new  alignment,  he  gave  no 
order  of  attack  to  break  up  the  Union  preparations,  but 
merely  sent  Ewell  the  suggestion  to  carry  Cemetery  Hill, 
if  he  thought  it  practicable.  Ewell,  however,  spent  the 
afternoon  in  waiting  to  be  reinforced;  and  a  great  Confed 
erate  opportunity  was  neglected. 

The  sanguinary  fight  of  the  second  did  not  commence  until 
far  into  the  afternoon.  This  July  weather  was  hot  and 
oppressive;  many  of  the  troops  just  arrived  on  either  side 
had  borne  a  long  and  exhausting  march;  and  doubtless  the 
opposing  commanders  felt  the  onerous  burden  of  initiating 
battle. 

Little  Round  Top  was  the  key  to  the  Union  position; 
and  the  enemy  concealing  their  movements  in  thick  woods 
until  the  signal  for  assault  was  given,  revealed  them 
selves  suddenly  at  four  o'clock,  with  an  outflanking  line. 
Sickles  held  an  advance  position  not  intended  by  Meade, 
but  too  late  to  be  rectified.  Upon  him,  unsheltered,  was 
made  by  Hood's  division  from  Longstreet  the  first  furious 
assault,  Lee  desiring  that  ground  for  his  artillery  in  storm 
ing  the  higher  crests  beyond.  Here,  for  nearly  two  hours, 
raged  a  fierce  and  sanguinary  conflict. 

The  Confederates  were  driven  from  the  hill;  but  later 
in  the  day,  when  the  Union  right  was  much  depleted  by  the 
reinforcements  hurried  to  Round  Top,  a  line  of  intrench- 
ments  left  here  by  Geary's  division  were  carried  by  the 
Confederate  General  Johnson,  who  held  the  position  all 
night.  Artillery  had  taken  part  wherever  it  could,  in  a 
pell-mell  fight  which  slackened  and  then  ceased  late  in  the 
evening. 


GETTYSBURG  193 

Thursday,  the  3d  of  July,  dawned  with  that  same  bright 
summer  weather,  intensely  hot,  which  invited  inaction,  until 
the  sun  should  pass  its  meridian.  Meade,  though  uncertain 
of  the  issue,  prepared  for  either  fate  with  coolness  and  fore 
thought.  At  sunrise  he  telegraphed  to  his  general  who 
commanded  at  Frederick,  to  harass  and  annoy  the  enemy 
should  they  be  driven  to  retreat,  but  in  case  discomfiture 
came  to  the  Union  army,  then  to  interpose  his  force  so  as 
to  protect  Washington. 

The  midday  silence  was  broken  by  a  simultaneous  dis 
charge  of  130  cannon  planted  on  the  Confederate  ridge,  to 
whose  terrific  uproar  half  the  number  responded  on  the 
Union  side.  Dense  clouds  of  smoke  settled  over  the  valley, 
through  which  the  shells  went  hissing  and  screaming  to  and 
fro.  This  tentative  artillery  duel,  whose  damage  done  was 
trifling  in  comparison  with  the  prodigious  noise  and  flame, 
occupied  about  an  hour.  The  Union  lines  stood  firm  as 
before,  and  even  firmer,  and  no  spot  showed  weakness  for 
the  foe  to  break.  Obedient  to  Longstreet's  orders,  as  the 
black  canopy  rolled  away,  Pickett  valiantly  led  forth  his 
troops  from  behind  a  ridge,  where  they  had  lain  concealed, 
and  a  column  of  some  17,000  men  moved  wedge-like  over 
the  green  landscape  of  waving  grain  and  stubble,  irradiated 
by  the  beaming  sun.  On  they  came,  in  full  sight  from 
Cemetery  Ridge,  for  nearly  a  mile;  but  before  they  had  ad 
vanced  half-way  across  the  valley  they  bore  off  toward  the 
centre  and  in  the  direction  of  Hancock's  front.  And  now, 
while  the  Union  artillery,  which  Lee  had  hoped  to  silence, 
opened  from  right  to  left  upon  the  forlorn  column  with  a 
terribly  destructive  fire,  Pickett's  assaulting  force  of  five 
thousand,  thinning  in  ranks  at  every  step,  approached  the 
long,  bristling  Union  line,  which  was  drawn  up  firm  on 
the  heights.  Pettigrew's  division,  supporting  it  on  the  left, 
was  attacked  by  Alexander  Hay's,  of  Hancock's  corps,  with 


194  GETTYSBURG 

such  fury  that  the  ranks  wavered  and  broke,  and  all  coura 
geous  who  were  left  alive  mingled  with  the  troops  of  Pick- 
ett.  At  an  advanced  point,  where  part  of  Webb's  small 
force  held  a  stone  fence,  that  barrier  was  carried  with  yells 
of  triumph;  but  Webb  fell  back  among  his  guns,  and,  aided 
from  right  to  left  by  Union  brigades  and  regiments,  which 
rushed  valorously  to  the  scene,  a  din  and  confusion  arose, 
men  fighting  and  overturning  one  another  like  wild  beasts, 
until,  at  a  little  clump  of  woods,  where  Gushing,  a  Union 
lieutenant  of  artillery,  fired  a  shot  as  he  dropped,  and  the 
Confederate  General  Armistead,  foremost  in  this  assault, 
fell  while  waving  his  hat  upon  his  sword-point,  the  last 
invading  surge  expended  itself.  More  than  two  thousand 
men  had  been  killed  or  wounded  in  thirty  minutes.  Pickett 
now  gave  the  order  to  retreat,  and  as  his  bleeding  and  shat 
tered  force  receded  in  confusion,  the  Union  soldiery  sprang 
forward,  enveloping  on  all  sides  the  Confederate  ranks  and 
swept  in  prisoners  and  battle  ensigns.  Wilcox,  too,  whose 
supporting  column  on  the  other  side  had  become  isolated, 
had  to  cut  his  way  out  in  retreat,  forced  by  a  Union  brigade, 
while  batteries  from  above  on  Little  Round  Top  rained 
down  iron  hail.  While  this  main  battle  raged,  sharp  cav 
alry  combats  took  place  upon  both  flanks  of  the  hostile 
armies. 

With  the  repulse  of  Pickett's  splendid  but  impracticable 
charge,  the  third  day's  fight  of  Gettysburg,  the  briefest  of 
all  in  duration,  and  yet  in  proportion,  the  bloodiest,  came 
to  an  end.  Lee,  shaken  by  the  terrible  consequences,  took 
candidly  the  blame  of  this  futile  effort  upon  himself,  and 
with  soothing  words  drew  off  to  save  the  remnant  of  his 
army.  Meade,  from  the  opposite  heights,  made  no  counter 
charge,  but  comprehending  quite  slowly  the  magnitude  of  his 
victory,  which  he  described  in  despatches  as  a  "  handsome 
repulse,"  refrained  from  pressing  forcibly  his  advantage. 


ST.   ANTHONY   AND   MINNEHAHA 
EDWARD    DUFFIELD    NEILL 


E~KE  the  Garden  of  Eden,  the  State  is  encircled  by  rivers 
and  lakes.  There  is  "  water,  water  everywhere  "  ;  and 
in  view  of  this  characteristic,  Nicollet  called  the  country 
Undine.  To  naiads  and  all  water  spirits  it  would  be  a  per 
fect  paradise.  The  surface  of  the  country  is  dotted  with 
lakes,  and  in  some  regions  it  is  impossible  to  travel  five  miles 
without  meeting  a  beautiful  expanse  of  water.  Many  of 
these  lakes  are  linked  together  by  small  and  clear  rivulets, 
while  others  are  isolated.  Their  configuration  is  varied  and 
picturesque  ;  some  are  large,  with  precipitous  shores,  and  con 
tain  wooded  islands;  others  are  approached  by  gentle  grassy 
slopes.  Their  bottoms  are  paved  with  agates,  carnelians, 
and  other  beautiful  quartz  pebbles.  Owens,  in  his  Geologi 
cal  Report,  says:  "  Their  beds  are  generally  pebbly,  or  cov 
ered  with  small  boulders,  which  peep  out  along  the  shore, 
and  frequently  show  a  rocky  line  around  the  entire  circum 
ference.  Very  few  of  them  have  mud  bottoms.  The  water 
is  generally  sweet  and  clear,  and  north  of  the  water-shed  is 
as  cool  and  refreshing  during  the  heats  of  summer  as  the 
water  of  springs  or  wells.  All  the  lakes  abound  with  vari 
ous  species  of  fish,  of  a  quality  and  flavour  greatly  superior 
to  those  of  the  streams  of  the  Middle  or  Western  States." 

The  country  also  contains  a  number  of  ha-ha,  as  the  Da- 
kotahs  call  all  waterfalls.  As  the  State  of  New  York  shares 
with  Great  Britain  the  sublimest  cataract,  so  Minnesota  has 
a  joint  ownership  in  a  picturesque  fall.  It  is  about  a  mile 
and  a  half  above  the  mouth  of  Pigeon  River.  The  perpen 
dicular  descent  is  sixty  feet,  after  which  the  river  chafes  its 


196     ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA 

way  for  many  yards.  About  one  mile  below  the  west  end  of 
Grand  Portage,  the  old  depot  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
are  the  great  cascades  of  Pigeon  River.  "  The  scenery  at  the 
cascades  presents  the  singular  combination  of  wild  grandeur 
and  picturesque  beauty,  with  an  aspect  the  most  dreary  and 
desolate  imaginable.  In  the  distance  of  four  hundred  yards, 
the  river  falls  one  hundred  and  forty-four  feet.  The  fall  is 
in  a  series  of  cascades  through  a  narrow  gorge,  with  perpen 
dicular  walls,  varying  from  forty  to  one  hundred  and  twenty 
feet,  on  both  sides  of  the  river."  The  streams  in  the  north 
east  county  of  Minnesota  nearly  all  come  into  Lake  Superior 
with  a  leap.  Half  a  mile  from  the  lake,  the  Kawimbash 
hurries  through  perpendicular  walls  of  stone,  seventy-five 
feet  in  height,  and  at  last  pitches  down  a  height  of  eighteen 
or  twenty  feet. 

On  Kettle  River,  a  tributary  of  the  St.  Croix,  there  are 
also  interesting  rapids  and  falls.  The  falls  of  St.  Croix, 
thirty  miles  above  Stillwater,  elicit  the  admiration  of  the 
traveller.  Between  lofty  walls  of  trap  rock,  the  river  rushes, 
"  at  first  with  great  velocity,  forming  a  succession  of  whirl 
pools,  until  it  makes  a  sudden  bend,  then  glides  along  pla 
cidly,  reflecting  in  its  deep  waters  the  dark  image  of  the 
columnar  masses,  as  they  rise  towering  above  each  other  to 
the  height  of  a  hundred  to  a  hundred  and  seventy  feet."  On 
the  Vermilion  River,  which  is  a  western  tributary  of  the 
Mississippi,  opposite  the  St.  Croix,  there  are  picturesque  falls, 
about  a  mile  from  Hastings. 

A  drive  of  less  than  fifteen  minutes  from  Fort  Snelling,  in 
the  direction  of  St.  Anthony,  brings  the  tourist  to  a  water 
fall  that  makes  a  lifetime  impression. 

"  Stars  in  the  silent  night 

Might  be  enchained, 
Birds  in  their  passing  flight 
Be  long  detained, 


ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA     197 

And  by  this  scene  entrancing, 

Angels  might  roam, 

Or  make  their  home, 
Hearing,  in  waters  dancing, 

'Mid  spray  and  foam, 
Minnehaha!" 

These,  within  a  brief  period,  have  obtained  a  world-wide 
reputation,  from  the  fact  that  a  "  certain  one  of  our  own 
poets  "  has  given  the  name  of  Minne-ha-ha  to  the  wife  of 
Hiawatha.  Longfellow,  in  his  vocabulary,  says:  "Minne- 
ha-ha — Laughing-water;  a  waterfall  or  a  stream  running 
into  the  Mississippi,  between  Fort  Snelling  and  the  Falls  of 
St.  Anthony."  All  waterfalls,  in  the  Dahkotah  tongue,  are 
called  Ha-ha,  never  Minne-ha-ha.  The  "  h  "  has  a  strong 
guttural  sound,  and  the  word  is  applied  because  of  the  curl 
ing  or  laughing  of  the  waters.  The  verb  I-ha-ha  primarily 
means,  to  curl;  secondarily,  to  laugh,  because  of  the  curling 
motion  of  the  mouth  in  laughter.  The  noise  of  Ha-ha  is 
called  by  the  Dahkotas  I-ha-ha,  because  of  its  resemblance 
to  laughter. 

A  small  rivulet,  the  outlet  of  Lakes  Harriet  and  Calhoun, 
gently  gliding  over  the  bluff  into  an  amphitheatre,  forms 
this  graceful  waterfall.  It  has  but  little  of  "  the  cataract's 
thunder."  Niagara  symbolizes  the  sublime ;  St.  Anthony  the 
picturesque;  Ha-ha  the  beautiful.  The  fall  is  about  sixty 
feet,  presenting  a  parabolic  curve,  which  drops,  without  the 
least  deviation,  until  it  has  reached  its  lower  level,  when  the 
stream  goes  on  its  way  rejoicing,  curling  along  in  laughing, 
childish  glee  at  the  graceful  feat  it  has  performed  in  bound 
ing  over  the  precipice. 

Five  miles  above  this  embodiment  of  beauty  are  the  more 
pretentious  Falls  of  St.  Anthony.  This  fall  was  not  named 
by  a  Jesuit,  as  Willard  says,  in  her  History  of  the  United 
States,  but  by  Hennepin,  a  Franciscan  of  the  Recollect  Order. 


198     ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA 

He  saw  it  while  returning  from  Mille  Lac,  in  the  month  of 
July,  1680,  and  named  it  after  his  patron  Saint,  Anthony  of 
Padua. 

In  the  last  edition  of  his  travels,  the  adventurous  father 
says,  "  The  navigation  is  interrupted  by  a  fall,  which  I  called 
St.  Anthony  of  Padua's,  in  gratitude  for  the  favours  done  me 
by  the  Almighty  through  the  intercession  of  that  great  saint, 
whom  we  had  chosen  patron  and  protector  of  all  our  enter 
prises.  This  fall  is  forty  or  fifty  feet  high,  divided  in  the 
middle  by  a  rocky  island  of  pyramidal  form."  As  Hennepin 
was  passing  the  falls,  in  company  with  a  party  of  buffalo 
hunters,  he  perceived  a  Dahkotah  up  in  an  oak  opposite  the 
great  fall,  weeping  bitterly,  with  a  well-dressed  beaver  robe, 
whitened  inside,  and  trimmed  with  porcupine  quills,  which 
he  was  offering  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  falls,  which  is  in  itself 
admirable  and  frightful.  I  heard  him  while  shedding  copious 
tears  say,  as  he  spoke  to  the  great  cateract:  "  Thou  who  art  a 
spirit,  grant  that  our  nation  may  pass  here  quietly  without 
accident,  may  kill  buffalo  in  abundance,  conquer  our  ene 
mies,  and  bring  in  slaves,  some  of  whom  we  will  put  to 
death  before  thee;  the  Messenecqz  (to  this  day  the  Dah- 
kotahs  call  the  Fox  Indians  by  this  name)  have  killed  our 
kindred,  grant  that  we  may  avenge  them." 

The  only  other  European,  during  the  time  of  the  French 
dominion,  whose  account  of  the  falls  is  preserved,  is  Charle- 
ville.  He  told  DuPratz,  the  author  of  a  history  of  Louis 
iana,  that,  with  two  Canadians  and  two  Indians,  in  a  birch 
canoe  laden  with  goods,  he  proceeded  as  far  as  the  Falls  of 
St.  Anthony.  This  cataract  he  describes  as  caused  by  a  flat 
rock,  which  forms  the  bed  of  the  river,  and  causing  a  fall 
of  eight  or  ten  feet.  It  was  not  far  from  a  century  after 
Hennepin  saw  the  "  curling  waters,"  that  it  was  gazed  upon 
by  a  British  subject.  Jonathan  Carver,  a  native  of  Connecti 
cut,  and  captain  of  a  Provincial  troop,  was  the  Yankee  who 


ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA     199 

first  looked  on  this  valuable  water-power,  and  began  to  make 
calculations  for  further  settlement.  His  sketch  of  the  falls 
in  1766  was  the  first  ever  taken,  and  was  well  engraved  in 
London. 

Carver,  like  Hennepin,  speaks  of  a  rocky  island  dividing 
the  falls,  and  estimates  its  width  about  forty  feet,  and  its 
length. not  much  more,  "and  about  half  way  between  this 
island  and  the  eastern  shore,  is  a  rock,  lying  at  the  very  edge 
of  the  fall,  that  appeared  to  be  about  five  or  six  feet  broad, 
and  thirty  or  forty  long." 

During  the  two  generations  that  have  elapsed  since  this 
description  was  penned,  some  changes  have  taken  place  in  the 
appearance  of  the  falls.  The  small  island  about  forty  feet 
broad,  which  is  now  some  distance  in  front  of  the  falls,  wras 
probably  once  in  its  midst.  The  geological  character  of  the 
bed  of  the  river  is  such,  that  an  undermining  process  is  con 
stantly  at  work.  The  upper  stratum  is  limestone,  with  many 
large  crevices,  and  about  fifteen  feet  in  thickness.  Beneath 
is  the  saccharoid  sandstone,  which  is  so  soft  that  it  cannot 
resist  the  wearing  of  the  rapid  waters.  It  is  more  than  prob 
able  that  in  an  age  long  passed,  the  falls  were  once  in  the 
vicinity  of  Fort  Snelling.  In  the  course  of  two  years  they 
have  receded  many  feet.  The  numbers  of  pine  logs  that  pitch 
over  the  falls  have  increased  the  recession.  As  the  logs  float 
down  they  are  driven  into  the  fissures,  and  serve  as  levers, 
other  logs  and  the  water  communicating  the  power,  to 
wrench  the  limestone  slabs  from  their  localities.  In  time  the 
falls  will  recede  until  they  become  nothing  more  than  rapids. 

The  fall  of  water  on  the  west  side  of  the  dividing  island 
is  several  rods  above  that  on  the  east  side,  and  the  difference 
is  occasioned  by  the  greater  volume  of  water  on  the  former 
side,  causing  a  more  rapid  recedence. 

There  are  two  islands  of  great  beauty  in  the  rapids  above 
the  falls.  The  first  juts  some  feet  beyond  the  falls,  and  con- 


200     ST.  ANTHONY  AND  MINNEHAHA 

tains  about  fifteen  acres.  It  is  now  generally  known  as 
Hennepin  Island,  not,  as  some  blunderer  says  in  Harper's 
Magazine  for  July,  1853,  because  the  Jesuit  father  was 
placed  there  by  the  Indians,  but  in  accordance  with  the  fol 
lowing  suggestion,  in  an  address  before  the  Historical  So 
ciety  of  Minnesota,  on  January  first,  1850: 

"  As  a  town  in  the  State  of  Illinois  has  already  taken  the 
name  of  Hennepin,  which  would  have  been  so  appropriate 
for  the  beautiful  village  of  St.  Anthony,  we  take  leave  of 
the  discoverer  of  those  picturesque  falls,  which  will  always 
render  that  town  equally  attractive  to  the  eye  of  the  poet 
and  capitalist,  by  suggesting  that  the  island  which  divides 
the  laughing  waters  be  called  Hennepin." 


NEWPORT 
T.    ADDISON   RICHARDS 

NEWPORT  occupies  the  south-west  corner  of  the 
island  upon  which  the  little  state  of  Rhode  Island,  of 
which  it  forms  a  considerable  part,  was  named.  To  the  old 
aboriginal  occupants  the  region  was  known  as  Aquidneck, 
Aquitneck,  or  Aquethneck,  according  to  varying  orthogra 
phies — signifying  "  Isle  of  Peace."  Its  southern  shores  are 
washed  by  the  surf  of  the  Atlantic,  while  at  all  other  points 
it  is  surrounded  by  the  waters  of  Narragansett  Bay.  In  the 
year  1638  it  was  purchased  by  the  first  white  settlers,  of  the 
Chieftains  Canonicus  and  Miantonomi,  for  the  certain  num 
ber  of  broadcloth  coats,  jack-knives,  and  other  sundries, 
which  went  at  the  time  to  make  up  the  customary  price  of 
such  commodities  as  Indian  states  and  territories. 

The  Aquidneck  pioneers  were  a  party  led  by  John  Clarke, 
William  Coddington,  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  and  others,  who 
were  driven  by  the  oppressions  of  religious  bigotry  from  their 
homes  in  the  neighbouring  colony  of  Massachusetts,  as  Roger 
Williams  and  his  friends  had  just  before  been  compelled  to 
seek  an  asylum  on  the  site  of  the  present  City  of  Providence, 
thirty  miles  above,  at  the  head  of  the  Narragansett  Bay. 
Clarke  and  his  fellow-exiles  had  set  out  on  foot  for  Long 
Island  on  the  Delaware,  but  were  happily  stopped  en  route  by 
Mr.  Williams  and  persuaded  to  enshrine  their  Penates  on  the 
Island  of  Aquidneck,  in  his  own  vicinage.  Their  first  settle 
ment  was  Pocasset,  now  Portsmouth,  in  the  upper  part  of 
their  new  territory,  but  the  busy  hive  increased  so  fast,  that 
when  a  year  only  had  passed  they  found  it  necessary  to 

201 


202  NEWPORT 

swarm,  which  they  did,  a  portion  of  them  proceeding  south 
ward,  in  1639,  and  founding  for  themselves  the  present  City 
of  Newport. 

As  on  the  settlement  of  Roger  Williams  in  Providence,  so 
in  the  colony  at  Aquidneck,  there  was  a  hearty  exorcising  of 
the  demon  of  intolerance  and  persecution,  in  matters  of  con 
science,  which  so  marred  the  character  of  the  neighbouring 
regions;  and  entire  freedom,  both  religious  and  civil,  was 
solemnly  assured  to  all — a  wise  as  well  as  just  policy  which 
at  once  strengthened  the  new  settlements  with  the  wealth 
and  virtue  of  the  classes  proscribed  elsewhere,  especially  the 
then  numerous  ones  of  Quakers  and  Jews.  The  admission 
of  these  elements  into  the  body  politic  and  social,  contributed 
greatly  to  the  immediate  success  and  to  the  after  fortunes 
of  the  people;  and  to  this  day  is  the  salutary  influence  power 
fully  and  usefully  at  work. 

Next  to  the  great  blessing  of  religious  liberty,  the  chief 
attraction  of  Aquidneck,  or  Rhode  Island — as  the  inhabi 
tants  re-named  it,  from  its  fancied  resemblance  to  the  Isle 
of  Rhodes,  in  the  Mediterranean — was  the  purity  and  pleas 
antness  of  its  climate,  a  greater  secret  of  its  success  at  this 
day  even  than  then. 

"It  is,"  says  Neal  in  his  history  (1715-20),  "deservedly 
esteemed  the  paradise  of  New-England,  for  the  fruitfulness 
of  the  soil  and  for  the  temperateness  of  the  climate;  and 
though  it  be  not  above  sixty-five  miles  south  of  Boston,  it  is 
a  coat  warmer  in  winter."  Berkeley,  of  whose  agreeable 
connection  with  the  neighbourhood  we  shall  speak  by-and-by, 
writing  in  1729  to  a  friend,  describes  the  climate  as  like  that 
of  Italy,  and  not  colder  in  winter  than  he  had  experienced  it 
everywhere  north  of  Rome.  "  We  have,"  said  Callender  in 
his  Historical  Discourse  in  1739,  "  all  summer,  a  south  and 
south-westerly  sea-breeze  " ;  while  another  writer  of  a  cen 
tury  back  praised  it  as  "  the  healthiest  country  he  ever  knew." 


NEWPORT  203 

The  climate  of  Newport,  thus  so  remarked  by  visitors  at 
the  earliest  periods,  no  less  than  now,  for  its  charming  quali 
ties,  comes,  says  Professor  Maury,  from  the  trend  of  the  gulf- 
stream,  driven  thitherward  by  the  prevailing  south  and  south 
west  winds. 

In  March,  1644,  six  years  after  the  first  settlement  at 
Aquidneck  and  seven  years  after  the  arrival  of  Williams  at 
Providence,  the  two  colonies  were  united  by  the  English 
crown  under  a  free,  common  charter,  with  their  present  style 
and  title  of  Rhode  Island  and  Providence  Plantations,  and 
with  the  fitting  words,  "  Amor  vincet  omnia"  as  their  con 
federate  motto. 

For  a  space  of  a  century  and  more  from  the  time  of  its 
first  settlement  in  1639  to  the  approach  of  the  Revolution, 
when  its  commercial  character  passed  away,  Newport  con 
tinued  steadily  to  grow  in  numbers  and  importance,  until  it 
came  to  be  looked  upon  as  the  future  metropolis  of  America, 
"  being  then  ranked,"  says  Cooper  in  the  Red  Rover,  "  among 
the  most  important  posts  along  the  whole  line  of  our  ex 
tended  coasts."  It  was  at  this  palmy  period  questionable  if 
even  New  York  could  ever,  with  all  its  great  promise,  attain 
to  the  height  which  Newport  had  reached!  All  the  neigh 
bouring  towns  drew  their  foreign  supplies  from  the  little 
capital  of  Rhode  Island,  and  looked  to  it  as  a  market  for 
their  own  industry.  More  and  more,  year  by  year,  her  grow 
ing  manufactories  amassed  wealth  at  home,  and  her  increas 
ing  tonnage  gathered  fortune  abroad.  At  one  time  upward 
of  thirty  distilleries  were  in  active  operation,  and  a  large 
fleet  was  continually  engaged  in  the  transport  of  their  ma 
terials  from  the  West  Indies.  Her  seamen  were  enterpris 
ing  and  successful,  too,  in  the  whale-fishing,  and  were  the 
first,  it  is  said,  to  carry  that  bold  business  as  far  as  the  Falk 
land  Islands. 

The  old  commercial  character  of  the  town  came  to  our 


204  NEWPORT 

mind  in  vivid  contrast  with  the  present  aspect  when,  as  we 
were  only  the  other  day  gliding  down  its  quiet  harbour  in 
one  of  the  many  pleasure  boats  of  the  place,  our  eye  fell 
upon  one — a  solitary  one  of  those  veterans  of  the  sea — a 
whale-ship ;  and  our  skipper  informed  us  that  "  she  had  sunk 
herself  to  her  owners,"  having  just  come  home,  after  a  four- 
years'  cruise,  with  only  four  hundred  barrels  of  oil.  Drift 
ing  beneath  the  stern  of  the  grim  old  craft,  we  thought  we 
saw  '  Ichabod,  Newport/  painted  there! 

In  these  days  of  commercial  prosperity,  Newport  was  not 
less  pre-eminent  for  intelligence,  taste,  and  learning,  and 
was,  as  Dr.  Waterhouse  said  in  1824  (Boston  Intelligencer), 
"  the  chosen  resort  of  the  rich  and  philosophic  from  nearly 
all  parts  of  the  civilized  world."  In  this  characteristic  of 
the  old  town  there  was  a  foreshadowing  of  the  special  fea 
tures  of  the  new;  for,  with  all  its  opulence  and  refinements, 
the  social  Newport  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  by  no  means 
exceeds  that  of  the  Eighteenth  in  elegance  and  culture,  or 
even  approaches  it  in  true  dignity  and  courtliness  of  man 
ners,  in  princely  liberality,  or  in  high-toned  morale.  These 
were  yet  the  stately  days  of  the  old  aristocratic  regime, 
when  the  unwashed  democracy  of  modern  times  was  all  un 
dreamed  of. 

Among  the  earliest  of  the  distinguished  names  associated 
with  the  story  of  Newport  is  that  of  the  venerable  Bishop 
Berkeley,  who  made  his  appearance  there  in  1729,  tarrying 
some  two  years.  The  memory  of  this  amiable  and  learned 
philosopher  is  often  and  vividly  recalled  to  the  mind  of  the 
present  people  and  visitors  at  Newport.  On  the  edge  of  the 
town,  within  sound  of  the  surf  on  the  sea-shore,  there  yet 
stands  the  house  which  he  built  and  occupied,  under  the 
name  of  Whitehall,  beneath  the  humble  roof  of  which  he 
wrote  some  of  his  finest  works,  among  them  the  famous  ode 
in  which  occurs  the  oft-quoted  line,  "  Westward  the  course 


NEWPORT  205 

of  empire  takes  its  way."  In  a  recess  of  the  rocky  bluff 
near  by,  on  the  Sachuest  or  Second  Beach,  known  to  us  as 
the  Hanging  Rocks,  he  is  said  to  have  penned  the  pages  of 
his  "  Minute  Philosopher,"  under  the  inspiration  of  the 
voiceful  sea.  The  worthy  Bishop's  eloquence  was  occasion 
ally  heard  from  the  pulpit  of  the  venerable  Trinity  Church, 
and  the  organ  in  use  there  to  this  day,  was  the  gift  of  his 
generous  hand. 

In  the  society  which  Berkeley  met  in  Newport  was  found 
his  clerical  friend  Honeyman,  the  rector  of  Trinity  Church, 
and  the  god-father  of  the  lofty  observatory-crowned  emi 
nence  on  the  north  of  the  city.  Then  there  was  the  Rev. 
John  Callender,  the  author  of  the  famous  "  Historical  Dis 
course  " ;  the  wise  divines  Stiles  and  Hopkinson,  and  Abra 
ham  Redwood,  the  generous  founder  of  the  beautiful  Red 
wood  Library,  so  attractive  to  the  stranger  in  the  town  at 
the  present  day;  and  besides  these  learned  worthies,  there 
were  the  hospitable  Malbones,  Godfrey  and  John,  many 
merchant  princes,  and  other  large-hearted  specimens  of  the 
fine  old  gentry  of  by-gone  days.  It  would  be  pleasant  to 
recall  here  the  numerous  anecdotes  which  have  come  down 
to  us  of  the  social  life  of  Newport  at  this  period,  but  we 
must  hasten  on  to  the  eventful  story  of  later  days.  Before 
we  glance  at  this,  the  Revolutionary  epoch,  no  less  in  the 
fortunes  and  fate  of  Newport  than  in  the  political  character 
of  the  country,  let  us  hastily  chronicle  the  names  of  yet  a 
few  others  whose  lives  have  shed  lustre  upon  the  place,  as 
that  of  Gilbert  Stuart,  the  illustrious  painter,  and  of  Ed 
ward  Malbone,  another  estimable  artist,  and  of  yet  a  third, 
the  venerable  Charles  B.  King.  The  eloquent  voice  of  Chan- 
ning  was  often  heard  on  the  old  isle  of  Aquidneck,  and  his 
homestead  is  among  the  picturesque  relics  of  the  region.  So, 
also,  are  the  home  and  tomb  of  Oliver  Hazard  Perry,  the 
illustrious  Commodore  of  the  Lake. 


206  NEWPORT 

It  was  thus,  under  the  most  propitious  breezes  of  fortune, 
material  and  moral,  ruffled  only  in  earlier  years  by  the 
neighbouring  wars  of  King  Philip,  and  the  still  earlier  ru 
mours  of  war  between  the  French  and  Indians  in  the  north, 
that  old  Newport  lived  from  her  birth  to  the  troublesome 
clays  of  the  Revolution,  which  robbed  her  of  her  population 
and  wealth,  never  to  come  back  again  by  the  old  path  of 
commercial  enterprise  and  success. 

The  only  action  which  may  properly  be  called  a  battle 
that  happened  in  Rhode  Island  during  the  Revolution,  was 
fought,  with  no  decided  success  on  either  side,  on  Butt's  or 
Quaker  hill,  in  Portsmouth,  the  original  settlement  of  the 
island.  Yet  the  people  were  staunch  adherents  of  the  pop 
ular  cause,  and  many  opportunities  came  for  the  display  of 
their  gallantry  and  valour  at  home  as  well  as  abroad.  Long 
before  the  actual  commencement  of  hostilities,  they  per 
formed  the  first  overt  act  of  resistance  wrhich  was  made  in 
the  Colonies  to  the  royal  authority,  by  the  summary  de 
struction  of  the  armed  sloop  Liberty,  in  return  for  her 
rude  treatment  of  a  vessel  from  an  adjoining  colony,  and 
of  themselves  when  they  demanded  atonement  therefor. 
The  incensed  Newporters  boarded  the  Liberty,  cut  her 
cables,  and  let  her  drift  out  to  Goat  Island,  where  she  was 
soon  afterward  burnt  during  a  heavy  thunder-storm.  Sub 
sequently  to  this  act  there  occurred,  further  up  the  bay,  the 
similar  exploit  of  Gaspee  Point,  in  which  the  obnoxious  toll- 
gathering  craft,  the  Gaspee,  was  adroitly  persuaded  to  run 
upon  the  unknown,  hidden  sands,  and  while  thus  helpless, 
was  destroyed  by  a  rebellious  party  from  Providence.  Not 
less  daring  was  the  attack  of  the  Pigot  by  the  crew  of 
the  little  sloop  Hawk,  on  the  east  side  of  the  island. 
Nothing,  either,  could  have  been  more  neatly  done  than  the 
bold  seizure  of  the  British  commander  Prescott,  at  his  own 
head-quarters  at  Portmouth,  when  Colonel  Barton,  of 


NEWPORT  207 

Providence,  and  a  few  trusty  fellows  dropped  down  the  bay 
at  night,  under  the  noses  of  the  enemy's  ships,  and  mastering 
the  sentinels,  coolly  took  the  old  tyrant  from  his  bed  and 
carried  him,  without  superfluous  toilette,  again  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  British  vessels,  to  the  American  camp.  The 
General  himself  said  at  the  moment  to  his  gallant  captor: 
"  Sir,  you  have  made  a  bold  push  to-night !  " 

The  first  threat  of  war  against  Rhode  Island  was  made 
in  the  fall  of  1775,  when  Admiral  Wallace,  who  commanded 
an  English  fleet  in  the  harbour  at  the  time,  seemed  to  be 
preparing  to  carry  off  the  live  stock  at  the  southern  end  of 
the  island  for  the  supply  of  the  royal  troops  in  Boston. 
Foiled  seasonably  in  his  project,  he  swore  vengeance  against 
the  town,  frightening  away  half  of  its  inhabitants,  and 
sorely  terrifying  the  rest,  until  a  compromise  was  made  by 
furnishing  him  certain  supplies  and  stores.  He  then  pro 
ceeded  up  the  bay,  leaving  desolation  wherever  his  demands 
were  denied.  In  the  following  spring  (1776),  Wallace 
was,  by  a  spirited  effort,  driven  out  of  the  harbour  of  New 
port;  but  before  Christmas  of  that  same  year  there  came  a 
British  fleet,  under  Sir  Peter  Parker,  from  which  nine  or 
ten  thousand  troops,  English  and  Hessians,  were  landed  at 
Middletown,  five  miles  from  Newport;  and  hereabouts  the 
intruders  stayed  until  the  Autumn  of  1779,  now  in  their 
camp,  and  now  quartered  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  towns, 
but,  in  camp  or  not,  always  aggressive  and  destructive;  so 
that  at  their  final  departure  they  left  only  ruin  and  dismay 
where  they  had  found  prosperity  and  happy  content.  On 
abandoning  the  island,  after  their  three  years'  possession,  they 
completed  the  destruction  they  had  begun  and  continued  by 
burning  the  barracks  at  Fort  Adams  and  the  light-house  at 
Beavertail  Point,  and  by  bearing  away  the  town  records, 
which  were  subsequently  regained,  but  in  such  condition 
as  to  be  of  little  use.  The  churches  had  been  used  and  abused 


208  NEWPORT 

as  barracks;  the  Redwood  Library  was  robbed  of  its  treas 
ures;  hundreds  of  buildings  had  been  destroyed,  and  of  all 
the  beautiful  trees  which  formerly  adorned  the  island, 
scarcely  one  remained. 

The  investment  of  the  island  by  the  British,  and  the  grad 
ual  wreck  which  (resulted  from  wanton  destruction  and 
from  the  continual  defence  of  their  position,  reduced  the 
population  from  twelve  to  four  thousand,  desolated  the 
country,  and  ruined  Newport,  despite  the  brilliant  flicker 
of  life  which  followed,  in  the  gay  occupancy  of  the  town 
by  the  French  troops  under  Rochambeau  and  the  Admiral 
de  Ternay. 

A  brave  but  futile  attempt  had  been  made  the  previous 
autumn  (August,  1778),  with  the  co-operation  of  a  French 
fleet,  under  D'Estaing,  to  expel  the  enemy  from  Rhode 
Island.  The  people  now  confidently  hoped  for  release  from 
the  yoke  which  had  so  long  galled  them,  but  with  the  ex 
ception  of  a  little  maneuvering,  and  sailing  to  and  fro, 
and  the  sinking  of  some  boats  as  obstructions  to  the  naviga 
tion,  nothing  of  great  moment  happened  on  the  water,  and 
nothing  on  the  land  but  the  action  (during  the  retreat  of 
of  the  Americans)  at  Butt's  hill,  already  alluded  to  as  the 
only  battle  of  the  Revolution  fought  upon  Rhode  Island 
soil.  In  this  attempt,  from  ten  to  fifteen  thousand  of  the 
patriot  troops  were  engaged,  under  the  command  of  Gen 
erals  Greene  and  Sullivan.  They  crossed  over  from  the 
main-land  to  the  upper  end  of  Aquidneck,  at  Tiverton. 
The  failure  of  the  expedition  is  attributed  to  the  want  of 
prompt  and  energetic  aid  on  the  part  of  the  Count  d'Estaing. 
The  coming  of  the  second  French  fleet,  under  De  Ternay, 
though  not  required  now  to  drive  the  enemy  from  their 
threshold,  was  no  less  warmly  hailed  than  had  been  that  of 
D'Estaing  before.  It  entered  Newport  harbour  on  the  loth 
of  July,  1780,  amidst  the  acclamations  of  the  populace. 


NEWPORT  209 

Scarcely,  however,  was  Rochambeau  established  in  his  head 
quarters,  at  the  old  "  Vernon  house"  (yet  standing),  when 
news  came  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy's  blockading 
squadron.  As  in  the  case  of  previous  rumours  of  war,  how 
ever,  no  engagement  followed,  and  the  French  officers  were 
left  to  display  their  gallantry  in  the  drawing-  and  ballroom, 
to  the  high  edification  of  the  beautiful  belles  of  the  day  and 
place,  instead  of  their  prowess  in  the  tented  field.  They 
went,  at  last,  and  finally,  during  the  following  year  (1781), 
and  Newport  was  left  without  any  new  troubles,  to  mourn 
over  the  crushing  and  fatal  issue  of  her  past  misfortunes. 

During  the  French  occupancy  of  the  town,  Washington 
was  received  there  amidst  a  general  illumination,  and  such 
rejoicings  as  the  depressed  hearts  of  the  people  allowed. 
He  was  entertained  at  the  head-quarters  of  the  Count  de 
Rochambeau,  in  the  present  "  Old  Vernon  House."  The  com 
mander  of  the  fleet,  the  Count  de  Ternay,  died  here,  and 
was  buried  with  great  pomp  in  the  cemetery  of  Trinity 
Church. 

Thus  brilliantly  ended  the  Revolutionary  story  of  Newr- 
port.  The  brightness,  though,  made  the  gloomy  night  which 
followed  only  the  darker;  for,  as  the  gay  ships  sailed  away, 
so  passed  the  last  ray  of  the  old  sunshine  of  success  in  which 
the  now  desolate  and  almost  deserted  town  had  so  long  and 
so  joyously  lived. 

There  is  little  to  be  said  of  Newport  during  the  half- 
century  between  the  close  of  the  Revolution  and  her  mem 
orable  social  renaissance,  about  the  year  1840.  This  was 
the  dark  age  in  her  eventful  history,  in  which  the  wearied 
and  worn  old  town  seemed  to  doze  her  crippled  life  away, 
without  effort  and  without  hope.  No  longer  was  the  daring 
whaler  seen  entering  her  harbour  covered  with  the  slime 
of  distant  seas;  no  more  were  her  warehouses  crowded  with 
the  rich  fabrics  and  produces  of  the  far-off  Indies;  no  longer 


210  NEWPORT 

echoed  the  cheerful  hum  of  industry,  and  her  houses — what 
remained  of  them — were  so  deserted  that  it  became,  with 
the  unsympathizing  around,  a  jest  to  say  that  with  the 
tenants'  privileges  in  Newport  was  the  liberty  to  use  such 
portions  of  his  dwelling  as  he  pleased  for  his  daily  fuel! 

In  process  of  time  "  the  pleasant  light  of  stars  "  shone  out, 
and  the  town  reawakened  at  last  to  the  new  and  yet  brighter 
dawning  which  gradually  followed.  Other  ports  had  in 
the  interval  supplanted  her  in  her  old  commercial  position, 
but  the  original  secrets  of  her  success  were  again  remem 
bered — the  beauties  of  her  rocky  shores,  and  the  marvellous 
sweetness  of  her  climate.  In  summer  days,  many  come  to 
enjoy  these  enviable  pleasures.  Year  by  year  the  number 
of  these  visitors  increased,  until  the  annual  "  arrivals " 
swelled  from  tens  to  hundreds  and  from  hundreds  to  thou 
sands.  Many  of  the  strangers,  not  contented  with  their 
brief  summer  stay,  took  up  their  permanent  abode  in  the 
town,  replacing  the  old  dwellings  with  sumptuous  villas,  here 
one  and  there  another,  until  at  last  there  grew  up  the  long 
spacious  streets  of  cottage  and  castle  which  now  form  the 
new  and  beautiful  Newport  that  looks  down  so  encourag 
ingly  from  its  hilly  terrace  upon  the  old  town  basking  by 
the  lazy  sea. 

In  this  renewed  prosperity  the  old  taverns  and  inns  grew 
by-and-by  to  be  insufficient  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
coming  throngs,  and  some  twenty  years  ago  there  began  to 
spring  up  the  great  hotels,  which  are  now  annually  over 
run  with  all  that  is  most  gay  and  most  dazzling  of  the 
luxury,  the  elegance,  the  pomp,  the  parade,  and  the  fashion 
of  the  land.  With  the  erection  of  the  Ocean  House  in  1845, 
the  new  life  of  Newport  was  fairly  begun,  and  her  position 
as  one  of  the  great  national  watering-places  of  the  Republic 
forever  assured. 


THE   PLAINS   OF   ABRAHAM 
JOHN   KNOX 

GREAT  preparations  are  making,  throughout  the  fleet 
and  army,  to  surprise  the  enemy,  and  compel  them 
to  decide  the  fate  of  Quebec  by  a  battle:  all  the  long-boats 
below  the  town  are  to  be  filled  with  seamen,  marines, 
and  such  detachments  as  can  be  spared  from  Points  Lev! 
and  Orleans,  in  order  to  make  a  feint  off  Beauport  and  the 
Point  de  Lest,  and  endeavour  to  engross  the  attention  of 
the  Sieur  de  Montcalm,  while  the  army  are  to  force  a  de 
scent  on  this  side  of  the  town.  The  Officer  of  our  regiment, 
who  commanded  the  escort  yesterday  on  the  reconnoitering 
party,  being  asked,  in  the  General's  hearing,  after  the  health 
of  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  was  reported  to  be  ill,  replied, 
"  He  was  in  a  very  low,  indifferent  state  " ;  which  the  other 
lamented,  saying,  "  He  has  but  a  puny,  delicate  constitution." 
This  struck  his  Excellency,  it  being  his  own  case,  who  in 
terrupted,  "  Don't  tell  me  of  constitution,  the  Officer  has 
good  spirits,  and  good  spirits  will  carry  a  man  through  every 
thing." 

The  Brigadiers  Monckton  and  Murray,  with  the  troops 
under  their  command,  reimbarked  this  day  from  the  parish 
of  St.  Nicholas,  and  returned  to  their  ships.  This  evening 
all  the  boats  of  the  fleet  below  the  town  were  filled  with 
marines,  etc.,  covered  by  frigates  and  sloops  of  war, 
worked  up,  and  lay  half-channel  over,  opposite  to  Beau- 
port,  as  if  intending  to  land  in  the  morning,  and  thereby 
fix  the  enemy's  whole  attention  to  that  quarter;  the  ships 
attending  them  are  to  edge  over,  at  break  of  day,  as  near 

211 


212  THE   PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM 

as  possible  without  grounding,  and  cannonade  the  French 
intrenchments.  At  nine  o'clock  this  night,  our  army  in 
high  spirits,  the  first  division  of  them  put  into  the  flat-bot 
tomed  boats,  and,  in  a  short  time  after,  the  whole  squadron 
moved  up  the  river  with  the  tide  of  flood,  and,  about  an 
hour  before  day-light  next  morning,  we  fell  down  with  the 
ebb.  Weather  favourable,  a  star-light  night. 

Thursday,  September  13,   1759. 

Before  daybreak  this  morning  we  made  a  descent  upon 
the  north  shore,  about  half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  east 
ward  of  Sillery;  and  the  light  troops  were  fortunately,  by 
the  rapidity  of  the  current,  carried  lower  down,  between 
us  and  Cape  Diamond;  we  had,  in  this  debarkation,  thirty 
flat-bottomed  boats,  containing  about  sixteen  hundred  men. 
This  was  a  great  surprise  on  the  enemy,  who,  from  the 
natural  strength  of  the  place,  did  not  suspect,  and  conse 
quently  were  not  prepared  against,  so  bold  an  attempt.  The 
chain  of  sentries,  which  they  had  posted  along  the  summit 
of  the  heights,  galled  us  a  little,  and  picked  off  several  men, 
and  some  Officers,  before  our  light  infantry  got  up  to  dis 
lodge  them.  This  grand  enterprise  was  conducted  and  ex 
ecuted  with  great  order  and  discretion ;  as  fast  as  we  landed, 
the  boats  put  off  for  reinforcements,  and  the  troops  formed 
with  much  regularity:  The  General,  with  Brigadiers 
Monckton  and  Murray,  were  a-shore  with  the  first  division. 
We  lost  no  time  here,  but  clambered  up  one  of  the  steepest 
precipices  that  can  be  conceived,  being  almost  a  perpendicular 
and  of  an  incredible  height.  As  soon  as  we  gained  the  sum 
mit,  all  was  quiet,  and  not  a  shot  was  heard,  owing  to  the 
excellent  conduct  of  the  light  infantry  under  Colonel  Howe ; 
it  was  by  this  time  clear  daylight.  Here  we  formed 
again,  the  river  and  the  south  country  in  our  rear,  our  right 
extending  to  the  town,  our  left  to  Sillery,  and  halted  a  few 


THE   PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM  213 

minutes.  The  General  then  detached  the  light  troops  to 
our  left  to  route  the  enemy  from  their  battery,  and  to  dis 
able  their  guns,  except  they  could  be  rendered  serviceable 
to  the  party  who  were  to  remain  there;  and  this  service 
was  soon  performed.  We  then  faced  to  the  right,  and 
marched  towards  the  town  by  files,  till  we  came  to  the  Plains 
of  Abraham — an  even  piece  of  ground  which  Mr.  Wolfe 
made  choice  of,  while  we  stood  forming  upon  the  hill. 
Weather  showery:  about  six  o'clock  the  enemy  first  made 
their  appearance  upon  the  height,  between  us  and  the  town; 
whereupon  we  halted,  and  wheeled  to  the  right,  thereby 
forming  the  line  of  battle.  The  enemy  had  now  likewise 
formed  the  line  of  battle,  and  got  some  cannon  to  play  on 
us,  with  round  and  canister-shot;  but  what  galled  us  most 
was  a  body  of  Indians  and  other  marksmen  they  had  con 
cealed  in  the  corn  opposite  to  the  front  of  our  right  wing, 
and  a  coppice,  that  stood  opposite  to  our  centre,  inclining 
towards  our  left;  but  the  Colonel  Hale,  by  Brigadier 
Monckton's  orders,  advanced  some  platoons,  alternately  from 
the  Forty-Seventh  regiment,  which,  after  a  few  rounds 
obliged  these  sculkers  to  retire:  we  were  now  ordered  to 
lie  down,  and  remained  some  time  in  this  position.  About 
eight  o'clock  we  had  two  pieces  of  short  brass  six  pounders 
playing  on  the  enemy,  which  threw  them  into  some  con 
fusion,  and  obliged  them  to  alter  their  disposition,  and 
Montcalm  formed  them  into  three  large  columns;  about 
nine  the  two  armies  moved  a  little  nearer  each  other.  The 
light  cavalry  made  a  faint  attempt  upon  our  parties  at  the 
battery  of  Sillery,  but  were  soon  beat  off,  and  Monsieur  de 
Bougainville,  with  his  troops  from  Cape  Rouge,  came  down 
to  attack  the  flank  of  our  second  line,  hoping  to  penetrate 
there;  but  by  a  masterly  disposition  of  Brigadier  Towns- 
hend,  they  were  forced  to  desist,  and  the  third  battalion  of 
Royal  Americans  was  then  detached  to  the  first  ground  we 


214  THE   PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM 

had  formed  on  after  we  had  gained  the  heights,  to  preserve 
the  communication  with  the  beach  and  our  boats.  About 
ten  o'clock  the  enemy  began  to  advance  briskly  in  three 
columns,  with  loud  shouts  and  recovered  arms,  two  of  them 
inclining  to  the  left  of  our  army,  and  the  third  towards  our 
right,  firing  obliquely  at  the  two  extremities  of  our  line, 
from  the  distance  of  one  hundred  and  thirty, — until  they 
came  within  forty  yards;  which  our  troops  withstood  with 
the  greatest  intrepidity  and  firmness,  still  reserving  their 
fire,  and  paying  the  strictest  obedience  to  their  Officers: 
this  uncommon  steadiness,  together  with  the  havoc  which 
the  grape-shot  from  our  field-pieces  made  among  them,  threw 
them  into  some  disorder,  and  was  most  critically  main 
tained  by  a  well-timed,  regular,  and  heavy  discharge  of  our 
small  arms,  such  as  they  could  no  longer  oppose;  hereupon 
they  gave  way,  and  fled  with  precipitation,  so  that,  by  the 
time  the  cloud  of  smoke  was  vanished,  our  men  were  again 
loaded,  and,  profiting  by  the  advantage  we  had  over  them, 
pursued  them  almost  to  the  gates  of  the  town,  and  the 
bridge  over  the  little  river,  redoubling  our  fire  with  great 
eagerness,  making  many  Officers  and  men  prisoners.  The 
weather  cleared  up,  with  a  comfortable  warm  sun-shine: 
the  Highlanders  chased  them  vigorously  towards  Charles's 
River,  and  the  Fifty-Eighth  to  the  suburb  close  to  John's 
Gate,  until  they  were  checked  by  the  cannon  from  the  two 
hulks;  at  the  same  time  a  gun,  which  the  town  had  brought 
to  bear  upon  us  with  grape-shot,  galled  the  progress  of  the 
regiments  to  the  right,  who  were  likewise  pursuing  with 
equal  ardour,  while  Colonel  Hunt  Walsh,  by  a  very  judi 
cious  movement,  wheeled  the  battalions  of  Bragg  and  Ken 
nedy  to  the  left,  and  flanked  the  coppice  where  a  body  of 
the  enemy  made  a  stand,  as  if  willing  to  renew  the  action; 
but  a  few  platoons  from  these  corps  completed  our  victory. 
Then  it  was  that  Brigadier  Townshend  came  up,  called 


THE   PLAINS    OF   ABRAHAM  215 

off  the  pursuers,  ordered  the  whole  line  to  dress,  and  re 
cover  their  former  ground.  Our  joy  at  this  success  is  inex 
pressibly  dampened  by  the  loss  we  sustained  of  one  of  the 
greatest  heroes  which  this  or  any  other  age  can  boast  of — 
General  James  Wolfe,  who  received  his  mortal  wound,  as 
he  was  exerting  himself  at  the  head  of  the  grenadiers  of 
Louisburg. 

The  Sieur  de  Montcalm  died  late  last  night;  when  his 
wound  was  dressed,  and  he  settled  in  bed,  the  surgeons  who 
attended  him  were  desired  to  acquaint  him  ingenuously  with 
their  sentiments  of  him,  and,  being  answered  that  his  wound 
was  mortal,  he  calmly  replied,  "  he  was  glad  of  it  " :  his 
Excellency  then  demanded,  "whether  he  could  survive  it 
long,  and  how  long?  "  He  was  told,  "  about  a  dozen  hours, 
perhaps  more,  peradventure  less."  "  So  much  the  better,"  re 
joined  the  eminent  warrior;  "  I  am  happy,  I  shall  not  live  to 
see  the  surrender  of  Quebec."  After  our  late  worthy  general 
of  renowned  memory  was  carried  off  wounded,  to  the  rear  of 
the  front  line,  he  desired  those  who  were  about  him  to  lay  him 
down ;  being  asked  if  he  would  have  a  surgeon  ?  he  replied,  "  it 
is  needless;  it  is  all  over  with  me."  One  of  them  cried  out, 
"they  run,  see  how  they  run."  "Who  runs?"  demanded 
our  hero,  with  great  earnestness,  like  a  person  roused  from 
sleep.  The  Officer  answered,  "  The  enemy,  sir.  Egad, 
they  give  way  everywhere !  "  Thereupon  the  General  re 
joined,  "  Go  one  of  you,  my  lads,  to  Colonel  Burton; 
tell  him  to  march  Webb's  regiment  with  all  speed  down  to 
Charles's  River,  to  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the  fugitives  from 
the  bridge."  Then,  turning  on  his  side,  he  added,  "Now, 
God  be  praised,  I  will  die  in  peace"  and  thus  expired. 


DETROIT 
J.  T.   HEADLEY 

THE  elevated  belt  of  inland  seas  which  stretches  from 
the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  tenth  parallel  of  west  longi 
tude  has  always  formed  one  of  the  most  striking  and  im 
portant  features  of  this  continent.  At  the  outset,  when  an 
unbroken  forest  extended,  in  the  southern  section,  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  through  which  the  settler  must  hew 
his  difficult  way  with  the  axe,  he  could,  by  these  great  in 
land  seas,  penetrate  to  its  very  centre.  The  French,  who 
claimed  the  Canadas  by  right  of  discovery,  extended  their 
exploration  to  Michilimackinac,  and  thence  south  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi.  But  the  English  colonies,  push 
ing  in  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  south  of  the  St.  Law 
rence,  forced  them  back,  till  the  lakes  and  the  river  became 
the  boundary-line  between  the  two,  and  the  scene  of  bloody 
conflicts.  So  in  the  Revolution  a  fiercer  struggle  took  place 
along  this  belt  of  water. 

The  French  early  saw  that  the  Detroit  River  was  a  min 
iature  Straits  of  Gibraltar  to  all  the  water  that  lay  beyond, 
and,  as  far  back  as  1701,  established  there  its  most  impor 
tant  western  station.  It  was  composed  of  a  military  colony, 
extending  for  twelve  or  sixteen  miles  up  and  down  the 
west  bank  of  the  river,  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  the 
fort,  a  quadrilateral  structure  embracing  about  a  hundred 
houses.  Numerous  white  dwellings  lay  scattered  along  the 
banks,  each  surrounded  with  a  picket-fence,  while  orchards 
and  gardens  and  outhouses  exhibited  the  thrift  of  the  Cana 
dian  settlers.  It  altogether  formed  a  beautiful  and  sunny 

216 


DETROIT  217 

opening  to  the  gloomy  wilderness;  and  to  the  trader  and 
soldier,  weary  with  their  long  marches  and  solitary  bivouacs 
in  the  forest,  it  was  ever  a  most  welcome  sight.  Three  large 
Indian  villages  were  embraced  in  the  limits  of  the  settlement. 
A  little  below  the  fort,  and  on  the  same  side  of  the  river, 
were  the  lodges  of  the  Pottawatamies;  nearly  opposite 
them,  those  of  the  Wyandots;  while  two  miles  farther  up 
lay  sprinkled  over  the  green  meadows  the  wigwams  of  the 
Ottawas. 

The  French  and  English  struggled  long  and  stubbornly 
for  the  control  of  the  Western  continent,  but  at  last  the  de 
cisive  conflict  came,  when  the  Canadas  were  put  up  and 
battled  for  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  With  the  fall  of 
Montcalm,  the  French  power  was  forever  broken;  and  the 
surrender  of  Montreal,  which  soon  followed,  virtually 
closed  the  war.  The  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Lakes  now 
being  in  possession  of  the  English,  nothing  remained  for 
the  weak  Western  posts  but  to  submit  quietly  to  their 
new  masters. 

The  news  of  the  overthrow  of  the  colonial  government 
had  reached  them,  but  having  received  no  formal  summons 
to  surrender,  they  still  kept  the  flag  of  France  flying;  and 
Captain  Rogers,  a  native  of  New  Hampshire,  was  sent  with 
200  Rangers,  in  fifteen  whaleboats,  to  take  possession  of 
them.  On  the  7th  of  November  he  encamped  on  the  pres 
ent  site  of  Cleveland — a  point  never  before  reached  by 
British  troops.  Here  a  deputation  of  Indians  met  him,  in 
the  name  of  Pontiac,  the  savage  lord  of  this  wilderness. 
Before  night  the  chief  himself  arrived,  and  demande'd  the 
reason  of  Rogers's  visit.  The  latter  told  him  that  the  French 
had  ceded  all  Canada  to  the  British,  who  now  had  undis 
puted  sway,  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  take  possession  of 
Detroit.  Pontiac  stayed  till  morning,  and  in  another  inter 
view  with  the  Ranger  professed  a  desire  for  peace.  Rogers 


218  DETROIT 

then  kept  on,  and  at  length  reached  Detroit,  over  which  the 
lilies  of  France  were  still  waving.  The  British  colours  at 
once  supplanted  them,  and  the  surrounding  Canadians  swore 
allegiance  to  the  British  crown. 

The  Indians,  who  had  been  on  the  most  friendly  terms 
with  the  French,  soon  had  cause  to  regret  their  change  of 
masters.  The  English  always  practiced  a  cruel  policy 
towards  the  Indians,  which  soon  showed  its  legitimate  fruits 
among  the  tribes  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Detroit.  There 
was  one  chief  among  them  who  held  undisputed  sway  by 
the  force  of  his  genius  and  the  loftiness  of  his  character. 
Like  Tecumseh  and  Red  Jacket,  he  was  one  of  those  few 
savage  monarchs  that  seem  made  for  a  nobler  destiny  than 
to  be  acknowledged  leader  of  a  few  thousand  naked  bar 
barians.  He  saw,  with  great  forecast  of  thought,  the  hu 
miliation  of  the  Indians  if  the  British  were  allowed  undis 
puted  sway;  for,  with  the  French  no  longer  as  allies,  he 
could  not  resist  successfully  their  aggressions.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  before  the  British  got  firmer  foothold,  to  over 
whelm  them  with  savage  forces,  trusting  to  French  aid  to 
complete  the  work.  So,  in  May,  1762,  he  sent  messengers 
to  the  various  surrounding  tribes,  summoning  them  to  as 
semble  for  consultation  on  the  banks  of  Ecorces  River,  a 
short  distance  from  Detroit. 

Pontiac  was  chief  only  of  the  Ottawas,  though  the  other 
tribes  acknowledged  his  authority.  He  was  at  this  time 
about  fifty  years  of  age,  and  though  not  above  the  middle 
height,  bore  himself  with  wonderful  dignity. 

The  tribes  responded  to  Pontiac's  call.  Soon  the  fierce 
Ojibwas  and  Wyandots  assembled  at  the  place  of  rendez 
vous,  and  took  their  seats  upon  the  grass  in  a  circle.  For 
a  long  time  not  a  word  was  spoken  in  the  council.  At  last 
Pontiac  strode  into  its  midst,  plumed  and  painted  for  war. 
Casting  his  fierce  glance  around  on  the  waiting  group,  he 


DETROIT  219 

commenced  denouncing  the  English  and  calling  on  the 
chiefs  to  arise  in  defence  of  their  rights.  His  voice  at  times 
pealed  like  a  bugle,  and  his  gestures  were  sudden  and  vio 
lent.  After  arousing  his  chiefs  by  his  eloquence,  he  un 
folded  his  plans. 

He  proposed  that  on  the  second  of  May  they  should  visit 
the  fort,  under  pretence  of  interchanging  friendly  and  peace 
ful  greetings;  and  then  when  the  garrison  was  suspecting 
no  treachery,  suddenly  fall  on  them  and  massacre  the  whole. 
They  all  readily  assented  to  his  scheme. 

Gladwyn,  commander  of  the  fort,  had  seen  nothing  to 
rouse  his  suspicions,  and  everything  betokened  a  quiet  sum 
mer,  until,  just  before  this  premeditated  massacre,  when  a 
Canadian  woman,  who  had  visited  the  Ottawa  village  to 
buy  some  venison  and  maple  sugar,  reported  that,  as  she 
was  passing  among  the  wigwams,  she  observed  the  warriors 
busily  engaged  in  filing  off  their  gun-barrels. 

Among  the  Ojibwas  was  a  young  Indian  girl,  named 
Catherine,  of  rare  beauty  and  exquisite  form.  Large  dark 
and  dreamy  eyes  lighted  up  her  nut-brown  complexion,  re 
vealing  a  loving  and  passionate  nature,  while  her  moccasined 
foot  pressed  the  green  sward  light  and  gracefully  as  a  young 
fawn's.  Struck  with  her  exquisite  loveliness,  Gladwyn  had 
become  enamoured  of  her;  and  his  passion  being  returned, 
she  had  become  his  mistress.  The  next  day  after  the  re-v 
port  of  the  woman  was  made,  this  girl  came  into  the  fort 
bringing  some  elk-skin  moccasins,  which  she  had  worked 
with  porcupine  quills,  as  a  present  for  Gladwyn. 

Her  pertinacity  and  the  melancholy  manner  in  which  she 
resisted  his  importunities  convinced  him  that  she  held  a 
secret  of  serious  import,  and  he  pressed  her  still  more  ear 
nestly.  At  last  her  firmness  gave  way  before  his  warm 
pleadings,  and  the  loving  heart  triumphed  over  its  fears. 
She  no  longer  saw  her  angry  tribe  and  the  vengeful  chief- 


220  DETROIT 

tains  demanding  her  death  as  the  betrayer  of  her  race.  She 
only  saw  the  adored  form  of  her  lover  before  her,  and  her 
lips  broke  their  painful  silence. 

Making  him  promise  not  to  betray  her  secret,  she  told 
him  that  the  Indians  had  sawed  off  their  gun-barrels  so  that 
they  could  carry  them  concealed  under  their  blankets;  and 
Pontiac,  with  his  chiefs  thus  armed,  was  about  to  visit  the 
fort  to  hold  a  council.  He  would  make  a  speech,  and  at 
its  close  present  to  Gladwyn  a  peace-belt  of  wampum. 
When  he  reversed  it  in  his  hands,  it  was  to  be  the  signal 
for  a  general  massacre  of  all  but  the  Canadians. 

When  the  welcome  light  of  morning  broke  over  the 
forest,  all  was  bustle  and  commotion  within  the  fort.  The 
sun  rose  bright  and  clear;  but  a  heavy  mist  lay  along  the 
river,  entirely  shrouding  it  from  view.  At  length  the  heavy 
folds  began  to  move  and  lift,  and  finally  parted  and  floated 
gracefully  away  on  the  morning  air,  revealing  the  water 
covered  with  bark  canoes  moving  steadily  across  the  river. 
Only  two  or  three  warriors  appeared  in  each,  the  others 
lying  flat  on  their  faces  on  the  bottom,  to  avoid  being  seen. 
Pontiac  had  ordered  this  to  be  done,  so  as  not  to  awaken  any 
suspicions  in  the  garrison  that  his  mission  was  not  what 
he  represented  it  to  be — a  peaceful  one.  He  could  not  leave 
them  behind,  for  he  would  need  them  in  the  approaching 
conflict.  There  was  a  large  common  behind  the  fort;  this 
was  soon  filled  with  a  crowd  of  Indians — squaws,  children, 
and  warriors  mingled  together — some  naked,  some  dressed 
in  fantastic  costumes,  or  gaudily  painted,  and  all  apparently 
preparing  for  a  game  of  ball.  Pontiac  slowly  approached 
the  fort,  with  sixty  chiefs  at  his  back  marching  in  Indian 
file.  Each  was  wrapped  to  the  chin  in  his  blanket,  under 
neath  which,  grasped  with  his  right  hand,  lay  concealed  his 
trusty  rifle.  From  the  heads  of  some  waved  the  hawk,  the 
eagle,  and  raven  plume.  Others  showed  only  the  scalp-lock, 


DETROIT  221 

while  a  few  wore  their  hair  naturally — the  long  dark  locks 
hanging  wildly  about  their  malignant  faces. 

As  Pontiac  passed  through  the  gate  of  the  fort  he  uttered 
a  low  ejaculation  of  surprise.  Well  might  he  do  so;  for 
the  unexpected  sight  that  met  his  gaze  would  have  startled 
a  greater  stoic  even  than  he.  Instead  of  beholding  the  gar 
rison  lulled  into  security,  and  entirely  off  its  guard,  he  found 
himself  between  two  lines  of  glittering  steel,  drawn  up  on 
each  side  of  the  gate  to  receive  him.  The  houses  of  the 
traders  and  those  employed  by  the  garrison  were  all  closed, 
and  the  occupants,  armed  to  the  teeth,  standing  on  guard 
upon  the  corners  of  the  streets;  while  the  tap  of  the  drum, 
heard  at  intervals,  told  in  language  that  Pontiac  could  not 
mistake  that  the  garrison,  which  he  expected  to  find  care 
less  and  insecure,  was  in  a  state  of  the  keenest  vigilance  and 
apparent  alarm.  Casting  a  dark  and  moody  glance  around 
on  these  hostile  preparations,  he  strode  haughtily  through 
the  principal  street  of  the  place,  and  advanced  direct  to  the 
council-house,  followed  by  his  chiefs. 

Passing  through  the  door  he  saw  Gladwyn  and  the  other 
officers  seated  at  the  farther  end,  each  with  his  sword  by 
his  side,  and  a  brace  of  pistols  in  his  belt.  Pontiac's  brow 
darkened  at  this  additional  proof  that  his  treacherous  and 
bloody  plot  had  been  discovered.  Controlling  himself,  how 
ever,  by  a  strong  effort,  he  rallied,  and  addressing  Gladwyn, 
said,  in  a  somewhat  reproachful  tone,  "  Why  do  I  see  so 
many  of  my  father's  young  men  standing  in  the  streets  with 
their  guns?"  Gladwyn  replied  carelessly  that  he  had  just 
been  drilling  them  to  keep  up  proper  discipline.  Pontiac 
knew  this  to  be  false;  but  he  could  not  do  otherwise  than 
appear  to  believe  it,  and  the  chiefs  sat  down.  Pontiac  then 
arose  and  began  his  address — holding  in  the  meantime  the 
fatal  wampum  belt  in  his  hand.  Gladwyn  paid  indifferent 
attention  to  his  speech,  but  kept  his  eye  glued  to  that  belt 


222  DETROIT 

of  wampum;  for  when  the  deadly  signal  should  be  given, 
no  time  must  be  lost.  Pontiac  spoke  with  all  that  plausi 
bility  and  deep  dissumulation  so  characteristic  of  the  Indian 
when  plotting  treachery. 

Pontiac  slowly  reached  forth  his  hand,  and  began  to 
reverse  the  wampum.  Gladwyn  saw  it,  and  quick  as 
lightning,  made  a  slight,  rapid  gesture — a  signal  before 
agreed  upon.  In  an  instant  every  hand  sought  the  sword 
hilt,  and  the  quick  clank  of  arms  through  the  open  door 
smote  ominously  on  the  ear.  The  next  moment  the  roll 
ing  sound  of  the  drum,  beating  the  charge,  echoed  afar 
through  the  streets.  The  effect  was  electrical.  Pontiac 
paused,  confounded.  He  now  knew  that  his  dark  plot  had 
been  discovered.  The  look  of  baffled  rage  and  undying 
hate  which  he  threw  around  him  was  followed  by  an  un 
certain,  disturbed  look.  He  dared  not  make  the  signal 
agreed  upon,  for  a  girdle  of  steel  surrounded  him.  The 
lion  was  caged;  the  haughty  lord  of  the  forest  caught  in 
his  own  trap.  But  beating  back  his  swelling  rage,  smothering 
with  a  strong  effort  the  fires  ready  to  burst  into  conflagra 
tion,  he  resumed  his  composure,  and  sat  down.  Gladwyn 
rose  to  reply.  Indulging  in  no  suspicions,  he  received  the 
belt  of  wampum  as  if  it  had  been  offered  in  the  true  spirit 
of  conciliation  and  kindness.  Pontiac  was  compelled  to 
swallow  his  fierce  passions  and  listen  calmly — nay,  outwardly 
with  meekness — to  the  hypocritical  harangue.  The  farce 
was  the  more  striking  for  its  being  the  finale  of  such  an 
intended  tragedy.  These  two  men,  burning  with  hatred 
against  each  other,  yet  wearing  the  outward  guise  of  friend 
ship,  and  expressing  mutual  trust  and  confidence — while 
such  an  unsprung  mine  of  death  and  slaughter  lay  at  their 
feet — presented  a  scene  not  soon  to  be  forgotten  by  the  spec 
tators.  At  length  the  council  broke  up;  and  Pontiac,  cast 
ing  haughty  and  fierce  glances  on  the  ranks  as  he  passed 


DETROIT  223 

out,  strode  through  the  gate  of  the  fort,  and  returned,  silent 
and  moody  to  his  wigwam. 

Determined  not  to  be  baffled  so,  he  next  morning  re 
turned  to  the  fort,  with  but  three  chiefs,  to  smoke  the  cal 
umet  of  peace,  and  another  farce  was  enacted,  in  which  each 
endeavoured  to  outdo  the  other  in  dissimulation. 

To  keep  up  this  show  of  friendly  relations,  Pontiac,  after 
the  interview  was  over,  retired  to  the  field,  and  calling  his 
young  warriors  together,  had  one  of  their  wild,  grotesque, 
indescribable  games  of  ball.  The  next  Monday,  early  in 
the  morning,  the  garrison  found  the  common  behind  the  fort 
thronged  with  the  Indians  of  four  tribes.  Soon  after,  Pon 
tiac  was  seen  advancing  toward  the  fort  accompanied  by  his 
chiefs.  Arriving  at  the  gate,  he  demanded  admittance. 
Gladwyn  replied  that  he  might  enter  alone,  but  that  none 
of  his  riotous  crew  should  accompany  him.  Pontiac,  in  his 
rage,  turned  away,  and  repeated  Gladwyn's  reply  to  the 
Indians,  who  lay  hidden  in  the  grass.  In  an  instant  the 
field  was  in  an  uproar.  They  leaped  up,  yelling  and  shout 
ing,  and  finding  nothing  else  to  wreak  their  vengeance  upon, 
went  to  the  house  of  an  old  English  woman,  and,  dragging 
her  forth,  murdered  her.  They  also  mangled  and  butchered 
a  man  by  the  name  of  Fisher.  Pontiac,  scorning  such  mean 
revenge,  hastened  to  the  shore,  and  launching  his  boat, 
sprang  in,  and  turned  its  prow  up  the  stream.  With  strong 
and  steady  strokes  he  urged  it  against  the  current  till  he 
came  opposite  the  village  of  his  tribe,  when  he  halted,  and 
shouted  to  the  women  to  immediately  remove  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river  from  that  on  which  the  fort  stood.  They 
instantly  obeyed;  and  huts  were  pulled  down  and  dragged 
with  all  their  utensils  to  the  shore.  Pontiac  then  retired 
to  his  cabin,  and  spent  the  day  pondering  future  schemes  of 
revenge.  By  night  the  removal  was  effected;  and  the  war 
riors  having  returned  from  the  fort,  all  were  assembled  on 


224  DETROIT 

the  grass.  Suddenly  Pontiac,  in  full  war  costume,  and 
swinging  his  tomahawk  above  his  head,  leaped  into  their 
midst,  and  began  a  fierce  and  exciting  harangue.  When  he 
had  closed,  a  deep  murmur  of  assent  followed,  and  open  war 
was  resolved  upon. 

The  long  and  weary  summer  at  length  wore  away,  and 
the  frosty  nights  and  chilling  winds  of  autumn  reminded  the 
garrison  of  the  approach  of  winter,  when  they  would  be 
blocked  in  beyond  all  hope  of  succour.  The  Indians  had  neg 
lected  their  crops;  and  they,  too,  began  to  look  anxiously 
forward  to  the  winter,  for  which  they  were  poorly  provided. 
At  the  end  of  September  several  of  the  tribes  broke  up  their 
camps  and  left.  Pontiac,  however,  remained;  and  though 
he  dared  not  attack  the  fort,  he  kept  the  garrison  as  closely 
confined  as  they  would  have  been  if  besieged  by  an  army 
of  ten  thousand  men.  The  beautiful  month  of  October 
passed  like  the  sultry  summer.  The  farmers  had  gathered 
in  their  harvests;  the  forest  had  put  on  the  glorious  hues 
of  autumn,  till  the  wilderness  was  one  immense  carpet  of 
purple  and  gold  and  green.  The  placid  stream  reflected, 
if  possible,  in  still  brighter  colours,  the  gorgeous  foliage  that 
overhung  its  banks;  and  when  the  mellow  breeze  ruffled 
its  surface,  broke  up  the  rich  flooring  into  ten  thousand 
fragments  and  forms,  till  it  looked  like  a  vast  kaleidoscope. 
The  dreamy  haze  of  the  Indian  Summer  overspread  the 
landscape;  the  forest  rustled  with  falling  leaves;  the  wild 
fowl  gathered  in  the  stream,  or  swept  in  clouds  overhead, 
winging  their  way  to  the  distant  ocean;  and  all  was  wild 
and  beautiful  in  that  far-off  island  of  the  wilderness.  But 
all  this  beauty  passed  unnoticed  by  the  little  beleaguered 
garrison. 

At  length  the  cold  storms  swept  the  wilderness,  filling 
the  heavens  with  leaves,  and  scattering  them  thick  as  snow- 
flakes  over  the  bosom  of  the  stream,  until  the  gayly  decorated 


DETROIT  225 

forest  stood  naked  and  brown  against  the  sky.  Still  Pon- 
tiac  lingered,  determined  to  starve  his  enemies  out.  But 
as  November  approached  he  received  a  message  from  Fort 
Chartres,  on  the  Mississippi,  which,  at  the  same  time  that 
it  filled  his  daring  spirit  with  rage,  crushed  his  fondest  hopes. 
It  was  a  despatch  from  the  French  commander  at  that  post, 
telling  him  that  he  must  no  longer  look  for  help  from  that 
quarter,  as  the  French  and  English  had  made  peace.  En 
raged  and  mortified,  he  broke  up  his  camp  and  retired  with 
his  warriors  to  the  Maumee. 


THE   ALAMO 
HENRY   BRUCE 

THE  Alamo  was  an  old  Franciscan  Mission,  dating 
from  the  beginning  of  the  Eighteenth  Century.  It 
was  surrounded  by  walls  three  feet  thick,  and  eight  feet 
high.  It  covered,  altogether,  an  area  of  nearly  three  acres. 
It  contained  a  roofless  church  of  hewn  stone,  and  several 
other  buildings,  and  was  defended  by  fourteen  guns.  The 
garrison  consisted  of  one  hundred  and  forty-five  men,  be 
sides  some  non-combatants,  and  these  were  increased  on 
the  ist  of  March,  1836,  or,  according  to  Crockett,  on  the 
24th  of  February,  by  about  thirty  men  from  Gonzalez. 
There  was  a  plentiful  supply  of  water  from  two  aqueducts, 
which  quickly  became  the  special  object  of  the  enemies'  at 
tack.  Colonel  Travis  is  said  to  have  been  most  careless 
from  the  first;  it  was  to  his  own  surprise  that  a  large  store 
of  provisions  was  discovered  in  the  Alamo  after  the  siege 
had  begun.  But  listen  to  the  ring  of  one  or  two  of  his 
latest  letters:  "  I  am  still  here,  March  3rd,  in  fine  spirits, 
and  well  to  do.  With  one  hundred  and  forty-five  men,  I 
have  held  this  place  ten  days  against  a  force  variously  esti 
mated  from  fifteen  hundred  to  six  thousand;  and  I  shall 
continue  to  hold  it  till  I  get  relief  from  my  countrymen, 
or  I  will  perish  in  its  defence.  We  have  had  a  shower  of 
bombs  and  cannon-balls  continually  falling  among  us  the 
whole  time,  yet  none  of  us  have  fallen."  And  again :  "  Take 
care  of  my  little  boy.  If  the  country  should  be  saved,  I 
may  make  him  a  splendid  fortune;  but  if  the  country  should 
be  lost,  and  I  should  perish,  he  will  have  nothing  but  the 

226 


THE    ALAMO  227 

proud  recollection  that  he  is  the  son  of  a  man  who  died  for 
his  country."  The  members  of  the  garrison  were  insubor 
dinate,  and  of  a  quality  more  willing  to  die  with  their  young 
commander  than  to  obey  him. 

There  is  a  tragical  completeness  and  grandeur  about  the 
sOry  of  the  defence  and  of  the  fall  of  the  Alamo,  which  makes 
me  unwilling  to  give  any  fragments  of  it  here.  We  have 
the  journal  of  the  gentle  David  Crockett  until  the  5th  of 
March,  and  his  details  bring  the  last  days  of  these  devoted 
Texans  very  close  to  us.  It  is  only  the  story  of  one  hun 
dred  and  seventy-five  bad-mannered  backwoodsmen  perish 
ing  for  their  disobedience  of  General  Houston's  orders;  and 
yet  there  is  a  divine  irradiation  over  it  all.  The  Alamo 
was  taken  in  the  earliest  morning  of  Sunday,  the  6th  of 
March,  1836,  and  Travis,  Bowie,  Crockett,  with  all  their 
companions,  were  butchered  by  Santa  Anna's  particular 
command. 

The  Convention,  which  was  sitting  at  Washington  on 
the  Brazos  during  these  days,  was  driven  almost  mad  by 
terror  and  by  Travis's  reiterated  messages  for  help.  Gen 
eral  Austin  was  in  the  United  States;  one  is  tempted  more 
and  more  to  believe  that  General  Houston  was  the  one  man 
in  Texas  not  altogether  demented.  On  the  morning  of 
Sunday,  March  6th,  the  latest  express  ever  sent  out  by 
Colonel  Travis  reached  the  Convention,  crying  for  help. 
One  mad  member  moved  that  the  Convention  should  ad 
journ  and  march  to  the  relief  of  the  Alamo — more  than 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles — fifty  men  against  eight  thou 
sand!  The  Convention  was  proceeding  to  adjourn  accord 
ingly,  and  it  strained  all  Houston's  personal  influence  to 
stamp  out  the  proposition.  For  what  followed  we  must 
trust  the  words  and  the  authority  of  Mr.  Lester: 

"  Houston  stopped  speaking,  and  walked  immediately  out 
of  the  Convention.  In  less  than  an  hour  he  was  mounted  on 


228  THE   ALAMO 

his  battle-horse,  and  with  three  or  four  brave  companions 
was  on  his  way  to  the  Alamo.  Men  looked  upon  it  as  an 
idle  and  desperate  attempt,  or  surely  more  wTould  have  fol 
lowed  him.  The  party  rode  hard  that  day,  and  only  stopped 
late  at  night  to  rest  their  horses.  They  were  now  in  the 
open  prairie.  At  break  of  day  Houston  retired  some  dis 
tance  from  the  party  and  listened  intently,  as  if  expecting  a 
distant  signal.  Colonel  Travis  had  stated  in  his  letters  that 
as  long  as  the  Alamo  could  hold  out  against  the  invaders, 
signal  guns  would  be  fired  at  sunrise.  It  is  a  well  authenti 
cated  fact  that  for  many  successive  days  these  guns  had  been 
heard  at  a  distance  of  over  one  hundred  miles  across  the 
prairie;  and  being  now  within  the  reach  of  their  sound, 
Houston  was  anxiously  waiting  for  the  expected  signal.  The 
day  before,  like  many  preceding  it,  a  dull,  rumbling  mur 
mur  had  come  booming  over  the  prairie  like  distant  thunder. 
He  listened  with  an  acuteness  of  sense  which  no  man  can 
understand  whose  hearing  has  not  been  sharpened  by  the 
teachings  of  the  dwellers  of  the  forest,  and  who  is  awaiting 
a  signal  of  life  or  death  from  brave  men.  He  listened  in 
vain.  Not  the  faintest  murmur  came  floating  on  the  calm 
morning  air.  He  knew  the  Alamo  had  fallen,  and  he  re 
turned  to  tell  his  companions.  The  event  confirmed  his 
conviction,  for  the  Alamo  had  fired  its  last  gun  the  morning 
he  left  Washington ;  and  at  the  very  moment  he  was  speaking 
in  the  Convention  those  brave  men  were  meeting  their  fate." 


SAVANNAH 
BENSON  JOHN   LOSSING 

SAVANNAH  is  pleasantly  situated  upon  a  sand-bluff, 
some  forty  feet  above  low-water  mark,  sloping  toward 
swamps  and  savannahs  at  a  lower  altitude  in  the  interior. 
It  is  upon  the  south  side  of  the  river,  about  eighteen  miles 
from  the  ocean.  The  city  is  laid  out  in  rectangles,  and  has 
ten  public  squares.  The  streets  are  generally  broad  and 
well-shaded,  some  of  them  with  four  rows  of  Pride-of-India 
trees,  which,  in  summer,  add  greatly  to  the  beauty  of  the 
city  and  comfort  of  the  inhabitants.  Before  noting  the 
localities  of  interest  in  Savannah  and  suburbs,  let  us  open 
the  interesting  pages  of  its  history,  and  note  their  teachings 
respecting  Georgia  in  general,  and  of  the  capital  in  par 
ticular,  whose  foundations  were  laid  by  General  Oglethorpe. 

We  will  here  refer  only  to  the  single  circumstance  con 
nected  with  the  earlier  efforts  at  settlement,  which  some 
believe  to  be  well  authenticated,  namely,  that  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  when  on  his  way  to  the  Orinoco,  in  South  America, 
entered  the  Savannah  River,  and  upon  the  bluff  where  the 
city  now  stands,  stood  and  talked  with  the  Indian  king. 
There  are  reasonable  doubts  of  the  truth  of  this  statement. 

As  late  as  1730,  the  territory  lying  between  the  Savannah 
and  Altamaha  Rivers  was  entirely  uninhabited  by  white 
people.  On  the  south  the  Spaniards  held  possession,  and 
on  the  west  the  French  had  Louisiana,  while  the  region 
under  consideration,  partially  filled  with  powerful  Indian 
tribes,  was  claimed  by  Great  Britain.  To  prevent  France 
and  Spain  from  occupying  it  (for  the  latter  already  began 

229 


230  SAVANNAH 

to  claim  territory  even  north  of  the  Savannah),  and  as  a  pro 
tection  to  the  Carolina  planters  against  the  encroachments 
of  their  hostile  neighbours,  various  schemes  of  emigration 
thither  were  proposed,  but  without  being  effected.  Finally, 
in  1729,  General  James  Oglethorpe,  a  valorous  soldier  and 
humane  Christian,  then  a  member  of  Parliament,  made  a 
proposition  in  that  body  for  the  founding  of  a  colony  to  be 
composed  of  poor  persons  who  were  confined  for  debt  and 
minor  offences  in  the  prisons  of  England.  He  instituted  an 
inquiry  into  their  condition,  which  resulted  in  the  convic 
tion  that  their  situation  would  be  more  tolerable  in  the 
position  of  a  military  colony,  acting  as  a  barrier  between  the 
Carolinians  and  their  troublesome  neighbours,  than  in  the 
moral  contamination  and  physical  miseries  of  prison  life. 
The  class  of  persons  whom  he  designed  to  transplant  to 
America  were  not  wicked  criminals,  but  chiefly  insolvent 
debtors. 

Oglethorpe  also  proposed  to  make  the  new  colony 
an  asylum  for  the  persecuted  Protestants  of  Germany  and 
other  Continental  states,  and  in  this  religious  idea  he  in 
cluded  the  pious  thought  of  spiritual  benefit  to  the  Indian 
tribes.  The  Earl  of  Shaftsbury  (the  fourth  bearing  that 
title)  and  other  influential  men  warmly  espoused  the  scheme, 
and  a  general  enthusiasm  upon  the  subject  soon  pervaded  the 
nation.  A  royal  charter  was  obtained  in  1732  for  twenty- 
one  years;  large  sums  were  subscribed  by  individuals;  and 
in  the  course  of  two  years,  Parliament  voted  one  hundred 
and  eighty  thousand  dollars  in  support  of  the  scheme. 

Oglethorpe  volunteered  to  act  as  governor  of  the  new 
colony,  and  to  accompany  the  settlers  to  their  destination. 
Accordingly,  in  November,  1732,  he  embarked  with  one 
hundred  and  twenty  emigrants,  and  in  fifty-seven  days  ar 
rived  off  the  bar  of  Charleston.  He  was  warmly  welcomed 
by  the  Carolinians,  and  on  the  thirteenth  of  January  he 


SAVANNAH  231 

sailed  for  Port  Royal.  While  the  colonists  were  landing, 
Oglethorpe,  with  a  few  followers,  proceeded  southward, 
ascended  the  Savannah  River  to  the  high  bluff,  and  there 
selected  a  spot  for  a  city,  the  capital  of  the  future  state. 
With  the  Yamacraw  Indians,  half  a  mile  from  this  bluff, 
dwelt  Tomo  Chici,  the  grand  sachem  of  the  Indian  con 
federacy  of  that  region.  Oglethorpe  and  the  chief  both  de 
sired  friendly  relations;  and  when  the  former  invited  the 
latter  to  his  tent,  Tomo  Chici  came,  bearing  in  his  hand  a 
small  buffalo  skin,  appropriately  ornamented,  and  addressed 
Oglethorpe  in  eloquent  and  conciliatory  terms.  Friendly 
relations  were  established,  and  on  the  twelfth  of  February 
the  little  band  of  settlers  came  from  Port  Royal  and  landed 
at  the  site  of  the  future  city  of  Savannah. 

For  almost  a  year  the  governor  lived  under  a  tent  stretched 
upon  pine  boughs,  while  the  streets  of  the  town  were  laid 
out,  and  the  people  built  their  houses  of  timber,  each  twenty- 
four  by  sixteen  feet  in  size.  In  May  following,  a  treaty  with 
the  Indian  chiefs  of  the  country  was  held,  and  on  the  first 
day  of  June  it  was  signed,  by  which  the  English  obtained 
sovereignty  over  the  lands  of  the  Creek  nation  as  far  south 
as  the  St.  John's,  in  Florida.  Such  was  the  beginning  of 
one  of  the  original  thirteen  states  of  our  confederacy. 

Within  eight  years  after  the  founding  of  Savannah, 
twenty-five  hundred  emigrants  had  been  sent  out  to  Georgia, 
at  an  expense  of  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Among 
these  were  one  hundred  and  fifty  Highlanders,  well  disci 
plined  in  military  tactics,  who  were  of  essential  service  to 
Oglethorpe.  Very  strict  moral  regulations  were  adopted; 
lots  of  land,  twenty-five  acres  each,  were  granted  to  men 
for  military  services,  and  every  care  was  exercised  to  make 
the  settlers  comfortable.  Yet  discontent  soon  prevailed,  for 
they  saw  the  Carolinians  growing  rich  by  traffic  in  negroes; 
they  also  saw  them  prosper  commercially  by  trade  with  the 


232  SAVANNAH 

West  Indies.  They  complained  of  the  Wesleyans  as  too 
rigid,  and  these  pious  Methodists  left  the  colony  and  re 
turned  home.  Still,  prosperity  did  not  smile  upon  the  set 
tlers,  and  a  failure  of  the  scheme  was  anticipated. 

Oglethorpe,  who  went  to  England  in  1734,  returned  in 
1736,  with  three  hundred  emigrants.  A  storm  was  gather 
ing  upon  the  southern  frontier  of  his  domain.  The  Spaniards 
at  St.  Augustine  regarded  the  rising  state  with  jealousy, 
and  as  a  war  between  England  and  Spain  was  anticipated, 
vigilance  was  necessary.  Oglethorpe  resolved  to  maintain 
the  claim  of  Great  Britain  south  to  the  banks  of  the  St. 
John's  and  the  Highlanders,  settled  at  Darien,  volunteered 
to-  aid  him.  With  a  few  followers,  he  hastened  in  a  scout- 
boat  to  St.  Simon's  Island,  where  he  laid  the  foundations  of 
Frederica,  and  upon  the  bluff  near  by  he  constructed  a  fort 
of  tabby?  the  ruins  of  which  may  still  be  seen  there.  He 
also  caused  forts  to  be  erected  at  Augusta,  Darien,  on  Cum 
berland  Island,  and  near  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Mary's  and 
St.  John's.  Perceiving  these  hostile  preparations,  the  Span 
ish  authorities  at  St.  Augustine  sent  commissioners  to  con 
fer  with  Oglethorpe.  They  demanded  the  evacuation  of 
the  whole  of  Georgia,  and  even  of  the  region  north  of  the 
Savannah  to  St.  Helena  Sound.  This  demand  was  accom 
panied  by  a  menace  of  war  in  the  event  of  non-compliance. 
Thus  matters  stood  for  several  months. 

In  the  winter  of  1736-7  Oglethorpe  again  went  to  Eng 
land,  where  he  received  the  commission  of  brigadier-general, 
with  a  command  extending  over  South  Carolina  as  well 
as  Georgia.  There  he  remained  a  year  and  a  half,  when 
he  returned  to  his  colony  with  a  regiment  of  six  hundred 
men  to  act  against  the  Spaniards.  England  declared  war 
against  Spain  in  the  latter  part  of  1739,  and  Oglethorpe 

1  A  mixture  of  lime,  oyster  shells  and  gravel,  which,  when  dry, 
forms  a  hard,  rocky  mass. 


SAVANNAH  233 

immediately  planned  an  expedition  against  St.  Augustine. 
The  St.  Mary's  was  then  considered  (as  it  remains)  the 
boundary  between  Georgia  and  Florida.  Over  that  line 
Oglethorpe  marched  in  May,  1740,  with  four  hundred  of 
his  regiment,  some  Carolinians,  and  a  large  body  of  friendly 
Indians.  He  captured  a  Spanish  fort  within  twenty-five  miles 
of  St.  Augustine.  A  small  fortress,  within  two  miles  of 
that  place,  was  surrendered  on  his  approach,  but  a  summons 
to  give  up  the  town  was  answered  by  defiant  words.  The 
invaders  maintained  a  siege  for  some  time,  when  the  arrival 
of  re-enforcements  for  the  garrison,  and  the  prevalence  of 
sickness  in  the  camp,  obliged  them  to  withdraw  and  return 
to  Savannah. 

The  inhabitants  of  Georgia  first  began  to  feel  the  hand 
of  British  taxation  when,  in  1767,  Governor  Wright  com 
municated  his  instructions  from  the  King  to  require  implicit 
obedience  to  the  Mutiny  Act.  They  were  compelled  to 
acquiesce,  but  it  was  with  reluctance.  They  had  not  realized 
the  practical  iniquity  of  the  Stamp  Act;  and  when,  in  1768, 
the  Assembly  at  Savannah  appointed  Dr.  Franklin  an  agent 
to  attend  to  the  interests  of  the  colony  in  Great  Britain, 
they  had  no  formal  special  complaint  to  make,  nor  difficulties 
with  government  for  him  to  adjust.  They  generally  in 
structed  him  to  use  efforts  to  have  the  acts  of  Parliament 
repealed,  which  were  offensive  to  the  colonies.  To  a  cir 
cular  letter  from  the  speaker  of  the  Massachusetts  Assembly, 
proposing  a  union  of  the  Colonies,  an  answer  of  approval 
was  returned.  In  1770,  the  Legislature  spoke  out  boldly 
against  the  oppressive  acts  of  the  mother  country,  by  pub 
lishing  a  Declaration  of  Rights,  similar  in  sentiment  to  that 
of  the  "  Stamp  Act  Congress  "  at  New  York.  Governor 
Wright  was  displeased,  and  viewing  the  progress  of  revolu 
tionary  principles  within  his  province  with  concern,  he  went 
to  England  to  confer  with  ministers.  He  remained  there 


234  SAVANNAH 

about  a  year  and  a  half.  During  his  absence,  James  Hab- 
ersham,  president  of  the  council,  exercised  executive  func 
tions. 

The  Republicans  of  Georgia  had  become  numerous  in 
1773,  and  committees  of  correspondence  were  early  formed, 
and  acted  efficiently.  A  meeting  of  the  friends  of  liberty  was 
called  in  Savannah  in  the  autumn  of  that  year,  but  Sir 
James  Wright,  supported  by  a  train  of  civil  officers,  pre 
vented  the  proposed  public  expression  of  opinion.  The 
wealthy  feared  loss  of  property  by  revolutionary  movements, 
while  the  timid  trembled  at  the  thought  of  resistance  to 
royal  government.  Selfishness  and  fear  kept  the  people  com 
paratively  quiet  for  a  while.  In  the  meantime,  a  pow 
erful  Tory  party  was  organizing  in  South  Carolina  and  in 
Georgia,  and  emissaries  were  sent  to  the  governors  of  these 
provinces  among  the  Indians  on  the  frontiers,  to  prepare 
them  to  lift  the  hatchet  and  go  out  upon  the  war-path  against 
the  white  people,  if  rebellion  should  ensue.  Such  was  the 
condition  of  Georgia  when  called  upon  to  appoint  repre 
sentatives  in  the  Continental  Congress,  to  be  held  at  Phila 
delphia  in  1774.  Half  encircled  by  fierce  savages,  and 
pressed  down  by  the  heel  of  strongly  supported  power  in 
their  midst,  the  Republicans  needed  stout  hearts  and  unbend 
ing  resolution.  These  they  possessed;  and  in  the  midst  of 
difficulties  they  were  bold,  and  adopted  measures  of  co 
operation  with  the  other  colonies  in  resistance  to  tyranny. 

There  are  but  few  remains  of  Revolutionary  localities 
about  Savannah.  The  city  has  spread  out  over  all  the 
British  works;  and  where  their  batteries,  redoubts,  ram 
parts,  and  ditches  were  constructed,  public  squares  are  laid 
out  and  adorned  with  trees,  or  houses  and  stores  cover  the 
earth.  Not  so  with  the  works  constructed  by  the  French 
engineers  during  the  seige  in  the  autumn  of  1779.  Al 
though  the  regular  forms  are  effaced,  yet  the  mounds  and 


SAVANNAH  235 

ditches  may  be  traced  many  rods  near  the  margin  of  the 
swamp  southeast  of  the  city.  These  I  visited  early  on  the 
morning  of  my  arrival  in  Savannah.  I  procured  a  saddle 
horse  and  rode  out  to  "  Jasper's  Spring,"  a  place  famous  as 
the  scene  of  a  bold  exploit,  which  has  been  the  theme  of 
history  and  song.1  It  is  near  the  Augusta  road,  two  and 
a  half  miles  westward  of  the  city.  The  day  was  very 
warm.  The  gardens  were  garnished  with  flowers;  the 
orange-trees  were  blooming;  blossoms  covered  the  peach 
trees,  and  insects  were  sporting  in  the  sunbeams. 

1  Sergeant  William  Jasper  while  securing  the  Carolina  flags 
upon  the  parapet  of  the  Spring  Hill  redoubt  at  Savannah  there 
sealed  his  patriotism  with  his  life's  blood.  Jasper  was  one  of  the 
bravest  of  the  brave.  After  his  exploits  at  Fort  Moultrie,  his 
commander,  General  Moultrie,  gave  him  a  sort  of  roving  commis 
sion,  certain  that  he  would  always  be  usefully  employed.  Jasper 
belonged  to  the  second  South  Carolina  regiment,  and  was  privileged 
to  select  from  his  corps  such  men  as  he  pleased  to  accompany  him  in 
his  enterprises.  Bravery  and  humanity  were  his  chief  characteristics, 
and  while  he  was  active  in  the  cause  of  his  country,  he  never 
injured  an  enemy  unnecessarily.  While  out  upon  one  of  his  ex 
cursions,  when  the  British  had  a  camp  at  Ebenezer,  all  the  sympa 
thies  of  his  heart  were  aroused  by  the  distress  of  a  Mrs.  Jones, 
whose  husband,  an  American  by  birth,  was  confined  in  irons  for 
deserting  the  royal  cause  after  taking  a  protection.  She  felt 
certain  that  he  would  be  hanged,  for,  with  others,  he  was  taken 
to  Savannah  for  that  purpose  the  next  morning.  Jasper  and  his 
only  companion  (Sergeant  Newton)  resolved  to  rescue  Jones  and 
his  fellow-prisoners.  Concealing  themselves  in  the  thick  bushes 
near  the  spring  (at  which  they  doubted  not  the  guard  of  eight 
men  would  halt),  they  awaited  their  approach.  As  expected,  the 
guard  halted  to  drink.  Only  two  of  them  remained  with  the 
prisoners,  while  the  others,  leaning  their  muskets  against  a  tree, 
went  to  the  spring.  Jasper  and  his  companion  then  leaped  from 
their  concealment,  seized  two  of  the  guns,  shot  the  two  sentinels, 
and  took  possession  of  the  remainder  of  the  muskets.  The  guards, 
unarmed,  were  powerless,  and  surrendered.  The  irons  were 
knocked  off  the  wrists  of  the  prisoners,  muskets  were  placed  in  their 


236  SAVANNAH 

Jasper's  Spring  is  just  within  the  edge  of  a  forest  of  oaks 
and  gums,  and  is  remarkable  only  on  account  of  its  his 
torical  associations.  It  is  in  the  midst  of  a  marshy  spot 
partially  covered  with  underwood,  on  the  northern  side  of 
the  road,  and  its  area  is  marked  by  the  circumference  of  a 
sunken  barrel.  Being  the  only  fountain  of  pure  water  in 
the  vicinity,  it  is  resorted  to  daily  by  travellers  upon  the 
road. 

hands,  and  the  custodians  of  Jones  and  his  fellow-patriots  were 
taken  to  the  American  camp  at  Purysburg  the  next  morning,  them 
selves  prisoners  of  war.  Jones  was  restored  to  his  wife,  child,  and 
country,  and  for  that  noble  deed  posterity  blesses  the  name  of 
Sergeant  Jasper.  That  name  is  indelibly  written  on  the  page  of 
history,  and  the  people  of  Savannah  have  perpetuated  it  by  bestow 
ing  it  upon  one  of  the  beautiful  squares  of  their  city. 


HARPER'S   FERRY 
JOHN   G.   ROSENGARTEN 

IT  was  a  wet  Monday  in  October,  on  my  return  from 
a  journey,  with  a  large  party  of  friends  and  acquaint* 
ances,  as  far  north  as  Chicago  and  as  far  south  as  St. 
Louis  and  the  Iron  Mountains.  We  were  gradually  near- 
ing  home,  and  the  fun  and  jollity  grew  apace  as  we  got 
closer  to  the  end  of  our  holiday  and  to  the  beginning  of 
our  everyday  work. 

Our  day's  ride  was  intended  to  be  from  Cumberland  (on 
the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railroad)  to  Baltimore.  The 
murky  drizzle  made  our  comfortable  car  all  the  more  cosy, 
and  the  picturesque  glories  of  that  part  of  Western  Vir 
ginia,  through  which  we  had  come  very  leisurely  and  en- 
joyably,  were  heightened  by  the  contrast  of  the  dull  cloud 
that  hung  over  the  valley  of  the  Potomac. 

At  Martinsburg  the  train  was  stopped  for  an  unusually 
long  time ;  and  in  spite  of  close  questioning,  we  were  obliged 
to  satisfy  our  curiosity  with  a  confused  story  of  an  out 
break  and  a  strike  among  the  workmen  at  the  armoury,  with 
a  consequent  detention  of  trains,  at  Harper's  Ferry.  The 
train  pushed  on  slowly,  and  at  last  came  to  a  dead  halt  at  a 
station  called  The  Old  Furnace. 

There  a  squad  of  half  a  dozen  lazy  Virginia  farmers — we 
should  call  them  a  picket  just  now,  in  our  day  of  military 
experiences — told  us  half  a  dozen  stories  about  the  troubles 
ahead,  and  finally  the  people  in  charge  of  our  train  deter 
mined  to  send  it  back  to  wait  for  further  news  from  below. 
A  young  engineer  who  was  employed  on  the  railroad  was 

237 


238  HARPER'S   FERRY 

directed  to  go  along  the  track  to  examine  it,  and  see  what, 
if  any,  damage  had  been  done.  As  I  had  brushed  up  an 
acquaintance  with  him,  I  volunteered  to  accompany  him, 
and  then  was  joined  by  a  young  Englishman,  a  Guardsman 
on  his  travels,  one  of  the  Welsh  Wynns,  just  returning 
from  a  shooting  tour  over  the  prairies.  We  started  off  in 
the  rain  and  mud,  and  kept  together  till  we  came  to  a 
bridle-path  crossing  the  railroad  and  climbing  up  the  hills. 
Here  we  met  a  country  doctor,  who  offered  to  guide  us  to 
Bolivar,  whence  we  could  come  down  to  the  Ferry,  and  as 
the  trains  would  be  detained  there  for  several  hours,  there 
would  be  time  enough  to  see  all  the  armoury  workshops  and 
wonders.  So  off  we  started  up  the  muddy  hillside,  leaving 
our  engineer  to  his  task  on  the  railroad ;  for  what  pedestrian 
would  not  prefer  the  worst  dirt  road  to  the  best  railroad 
for  an  hour's  walking? 

My  guide — Dr.  Marmion  was  the  name  he  gave  in  ex 
change  for  mine — said  that  the  row  at  the  Ferry  was 
nothing  but  a  riotous  demonstration  by  the  workmen.  He 
came  from  quite  a  distance,  and,  hearing  these  vague  re 
ports,  had  turned  off  to  visit  his  patients  in  this  quarter, 
so  that  he  might  learn  the  real  facts;  and  as  it  was  then 
only  a  little  past  nine,  he  had  time  to  do  his  morning's 
work  in  Bolivar.  So  there  we  parted,  he  agreeing  to  join 
me  again  at  the  Ferry;  and  he  did  so  later  in  the  day. 

Turning  to  the  left  on  the  main  pike,  I  found  little  knots 
of  lounging  villagers  gathered  in  the  rain  and  mud,  spit 
ting,  swearing,  and  discussing  the  news  from  the  Ferry. 
Few  of  them  had  been  there,  and  none  of  them  agreed  in 
their  account  of  the  troubles;  so  I  plodded  on  over  the  hill 
and  down  the  sharp  slope  that  led  to  the  Ferry.  Just  as 
I  began  the  descent,  a  person  rode  up  on  horseback,  gun  in 
hand,  and  as  we  came  in  sight  of  the  armoury,  he  told  me 
the  true  story — that  a  band  of  men  were  gathered  together 


HARPER'S   FERRY  239 

to  set  the  slaves  free,  and  that,  after  starting  the  outbreak 
on  the  night  before,  they  had  taken  refuge  down  below. 
He  pointed  with  his  gun,  and  we  were  standing  side  by 
side,  when  a  sudden  flash  and  a  sharp  report  and  a  bullet 
stopped  his  story  and  his  life. 

The  few  people  above  us  looked  down  from  behind  the 
shelter  of  houses  and  fences — from  below  not  a  soul  was 
visible  in  the  streets  and  alleys  of  Harper's  Ferry,  and  only 
a  few  persons  could  be  seen  moving  about  the  building  in 
the  armoury  inclosure.  In  a  minute,  some  of  the  towns 
people,  holding  out  a  white  handkerchief,  came  down  to 
the  fallen  man,  and,  quite  undisturbed,  carried  him  up  the 
hill  and  to  the  nearest  house — all  with  hardly  a  question 
or  a  word  of  explanation.  Shocked  by  what  was  then  rare 
enough  to  be  appalling — sudden  and  violent  death  by  fire 
arms  in  the  hands  of  concealed  men, — I  started  off  again, 
meaning  to  go  down  to  the  Ferry,  with  some  vague  notion 
of  being  a  peacemaker,  and  at  least  of  satisfying  my  curi 
osity  as  to  the  meaning  of  all  these  mysteries:  for  while  I 
saw  that  fatal  rifle-shot  meant  destruction,  I  had  no  con 
ception  of  a  plot. 

Just  as  I  had  reached  the  point  where  I  had  joined  the 
poor  man  who  had  fallen — it  was  a  Mr.  Turner,  formerly 
a  captain  in  the  army,  and  a  person  deservedly  held  in  high 
esteem  by  all  his  friends  and  neighbours, — a  knot  of  two 
or  three  armed  men  stopped  me,  and  after  a  short  parley 
directed  me  to  someone  in  authority,  who  would  hear  my 
story.  The  guard  who  escorted  me  to  the  great  man  was 
garrulous  and  kind  enough  to  tell  me  more  in  detail  the 
story,  now  familiar  to  all  of  us,  of  the  capture  of  Mr. 
Lewis  Washington  and  other  persons  of  note  in  the  Sun 
day  night  raid  of  a  body  of  unknown  men.  The  dread 
of  something  yet  to  come,  with  which  the  people  were 
manifestly  possessed,  was  such  as  only  those  can  know  who 


240  HARPER'S   FERRY 

have  lived  in  a  Slave  State;  and  while  there  was  plenty  of 
talk  of  the  steadiness  of  the  slaves  near  the  Ferry,  it  was 
plain  that  that  was  the  magazine  that  was  momentarily  in 
danger  of  going  off  and  carrying  them  all  along  with  it. 

The  officers  of  the  neighbouring  militia  had  gathered 
together  in  the  main  tavern  of  the  place,  without  waiting 
for  their  men,  but  not  unmindful  of  the  impressive  effect 
of  full  uniform,  and  half  a  dozen  kinds  of  military  toggery 
were  displayed  on  the  half  dozen  persons  convened  in  a 
sort  of  drum-head  court-martial. 

I  was  not  the  only  prisoner,  and  had  an  opportunity  to 
hear  the  recitals  of  my  fellows  in  luck.  First  and  fore 
most  of  all  was  a  huge,  swaggering,  black-bearded,  gold- 
chain  and  scarlet-velvet-waistcoated,  piratical-looking  fel 
low,  who  announced  himself  as  a  Border  Ruffian,  of  Vir 
ginia  stock,  and  now  visiting  his  relations  near  the  Ferry; 
but  he  said  that  he  had  fought  with  the  Southern  Rights 
party  in  the  Kansas  war,  and  that  when  he  heard  of  the 
"  raid,"  as  he  familiarly  called  the  then  unfamiliar  feat  of 
the  Sunday  night  just  past,  he  knew  who  was  at  the  top 
and  bottom  of  it,  and  he  described  in  a  truthful  sort  of  way 
the  man  whose  name  and  features  were  alike  unknown  to 
all  his  listeners, — "  Ossawatomie  Brown,"  "  Old  John 
Brown."  Garnishing  the  story  of  their  earlier  contests 
with  plentiful  oaths,  he  gave  us  a  lively  picture  of  their 
personal  hand-to-hand  fights  in  the  West,  and  said  that  he 
had  come  to  help  fight  his  old  friend  and  enemy,  and  to 
fight  him  fair,  just  as  they  did  in  "  M'souri."  He  wanted 
ten  or  a  dozen  men  to  arm  themselves  to  the  teeth,  and 
he'd  lead  'em  straight  on.  His  indignation  at  his  arrest 
and  at  the  evident  incredulity  of  his  hearers  and  judges 
was  not  a  whit  less  hearty  and  genuine  than  his  curses  on 
their  cowardice  in  postponing  any  attack  or  risk  of  fighting 
until  the  arrival  of  militia,  or  soldiers,  or  help  of  some 


HARPER'S   FERRY  241 

kind,  in  strength  to  overpower  the  little  band  in  the  armoury, 
to  make  resistance  useless,  and  an  attack,  if  that  was  nec 
essary,  safe  enough  to  secure  some  valiant  man  to  lead 
it  on. 

My  story  was  soon  told.  I  was  a  traveller;  my  train 
had  been  stopped;  I  had  started  off  on  foot,  meaning  to 
walk  over  the  hill  to  the  Ferry,  and  expecting  there  to 
meet  the  train  to  go  on  to  Baltimore.  The  interruptions 
were  plentiful,  and  talk  blatant.  I  showed  a  ticket,  a 
memorandum-book  giving  the  dates  and  distances  of  my 
recent  journey,  and  a  novel  (I  think  it  was  one  of  Bal 
zac's)  in  French,  and  on  it  was  written  in  pencil  my  name 
and  address.  That  was  the  key-note  of  plenty  of  suspicion. 
How  could  they  believe  any  man  from  a  Northern  city 
innocent  of  a  knowledge  of  the  plot  now  bursting  about  their 
ears?  Would  not  my  travelling  companions  from  the  same 
latitude  be  ready  to  help  free  the  slaves?  And  if  I  was 
set  at  liberty,  would  it  not  be  only  too  easy  to  communicate 
between  the  little  host  already  beleaguered  in  the  armoury 
engine  house  and  the  mythical  great  host  that  was  gathered 
in  the  North  and  ready  to  pour  itself  over  the  South?  Of 
course  all  this,  the  staple  of  their  everyday  discussions,  was 
strange  enough  to  my  ears;  and  I  listened  in  a  sort  of  silent 
wonderment  that  men  could  talk  such  balderdash.  Any 
serious  project  of  a  great  Northern  movement  on  behalf  of 
Southern  slaves  was  then  as  far  from  credible  and  as  strange 
to  my  ears  as  it  was  possible  to  be.  It  seemed  hardly 
worth  while  to  answer  their  suggestions;  I  therefore  spoke 
of  neighbours  of  theirs  who  were  friends  of  mine,  and  of 
other  prominent  persons  in  this  and  other  parts  of  Vir 
ginia  who  were  acquaintances,  and  for  a  little  time  I  hoped 
to  be  allowed  to  go  free;  but  after  more  loud  talk  and  a 
squabble  that  marked  by  its  growing  violence  the  growing 
drunkenness  of  the  whole  party,  court  and  guard  and  spec- 


242  HARPER'S   FERRY 

tators  all,  I  was  ordered  along  with  the  other  prisoners  to 
be  held  in  custody  for  the  present.  We  were  marched  off, 
first  to  one  house  and  then  to  another,  looking  for  a  con 
venient  prison,  and  finally  found  one  in  a  shop.  Here — it 
was  a  country  store — we  sat  and  smoked  and  drank  and 
chatted  with  our  guard  and  with  their  friends  inside  and 
out.  Now  and  then  a  volley  was  fired  in  the  streets  of  the 
village  below  us,  and  we  would  all  go  to  a  line  fence  where 
we  could  see  its  effects:  generally  it  was  only  riotous  noise, 
but  occasionally  it  was  directed  against  the  engine  house  or 
on  someone  moving  through  the  armoury  yard. 

As  the  militia  in  and  out  of  uniform,  and  the  men  from 
far  and  near,  armed  in  all  sorts  of  ways,  began  to  come  into 
the  village  in  squads,  their  strength  seemed  to  give  them 
increased  confidence,  and  especially  in  the  perfectly  safe 
place  where  I  sat  with  half  a  dozen  others  under  a  heavy 
guard.  Now  and  then  an  ugly-looking  fowling-piece  or  an 
awkwardly  handled  pistol  was  threateningly  pointed  at  us, 
with  a  half-laughing  and  half-drunken  threat  of  keeping 
us  safe.  Toward  afternoon  we  were  ordered  for  the  night 
to  Charlestown,  and  to  the  jail  there  that  has  grown  so 
famous  by  its  hospitality  to  our  successors. 

Early  morning  was  very  welcome,  for  it  brought  the 
court-martial  up  to  Charlestown,  and  I  was  soon  ready  for 
a  hearing.  Fortunately,  after  a  good  deal  of  angry  discus 
sion  and  some  threats  of  short  shrift,  a  message  came  up 
from  the  Ferry  from  Governor  Wise;  and  as  I  boldly 
claimed  acquaintance  with  him,  they  granted  me  leave  to 
send  down  a  note  to  him,  asking  for  his  confirmation  of 
my  statements. 

While  this  was  doing,  I  was  paroled  and  served  my  Kan 
sas  colleague  by  advice  to  hold  his  tongue;  he  did  so,  and 
was  soon  released;  and  my  messenger  returned  with  such 
advices,  in  the  shape  of  a  pretty  sharp  reprimand  to  the 


HARPER'S   FERRY  243 

busy  court-martial  for  their  interference  with  the  liberty 
of  the  citizen,  as  speedily  got  me  my  freedom.  I  used  it  to 
buy  such  articles  of  clothing  as  could  be  had  in  Charles- 
town,  and  my  prison  clothes  were  gladly  thrown  aside. 
Some  of  my  fellow-travellers  reached  the  place  in  time  to 
find  me  snugly  ensconced  in  the  tavern,  waiting  for  an 
ancient  carriage;  with  them  we  drove  back  to  the  Ferry 
in  solemn  state.  The  same  deserted  houses  and  the  same 
skulking  out  of  sight  by  the  inhabitants  showed  the  fear 
that  outlasted  even  the  arrival  of  heavy  militia  reinforce 
ments. 

We  stopped  at  Mr.  Lewis  Washington's,  and,  with 
out  let  or  hindrance,  walked  through  the  pretty  grounds 
and  the  bright  rooms  and  the  neat  negro  huts,  all  alike  life 
less,  and  yet  showing  at  every  turn  the  suddenness  and  the 
recentness  of  the  fright  that  had  carried  everybody  off. 
Our  ride  through  Bolivar  was  cheered  by  a  vigorous  greet 
ing  from  my  captor  of  the  day  before, — the  village  shoe 
maker,  a  brawny  fellow, — who  declared  that  he  knew  I 
was  all  right,  that  he  had  taken  care  of  me,  that  he  would 
not  have  me  hanged  or  shot,  and  "  wouldn't  I  give  him 
sum't  to  have  a  drink  all  round,  and  if  ever  I  came  again, 
please  to  stop  and  see  him  " ;  and  so  I  did,  when  I  came 
back  with  my  regiment  in  war-times;  but  then  no  shoe 
maker  was  to  be  found. 

I  paid  my  respects  to  Governor  Wise,  and  thanked  him 
for  my  release;  was  introduced  to  Colonel  Lee  (now  the 
Rebel  general),  and  to  the  officers  of  the  little  squad  of 
marines  who  had  carried  the  stronghold  of  the  "  invaders," 
as  the  Governor  persistently  called  them. 

In  company  with  "  Porte  Crayon,"  Mr.  Strothers,  a  na 
tive  of  that  part  of  Virginia,  and  well  known  by  his 
sketches  of  Southern  life,  I  went  to  the  engine-house,  and 
there  saw  the  marks  of  the  desperate  bravery  of  John  Brown 


244  HARPER'S   FERRY 

and  his  men.  I  saw,  too,  John  Brown  himself.  Wounded, 
bleeding,  haggard,  and  defeated,  and  expecting  death  with 
more  or  less  of  agony  as  it  was  more  or  less  near,  John 
Brown  was  the  finest  specimen  of  a  man  that  I  ever  saw. 
His  great,  gaunt  form,  his  noble  head  and  face,  his  iron- 
grey  and  patriarchal  beard,  with  the  patient  endurance  of 
his  own  suffering,  and  his  painful  anxiety  for  the  fate  of 
his  sons  and  the  welfare  of  his  men,  his  reticence  when 
jeered  at,  his  readiness  to  turn  away  wrath  with  a  kind 
answer,  his  whole  appearance  and  manner,  what  he  looked, 
what  he  said — all  impressed  me  with  the  deepest  sense  of 
reverence.  If  his  being  likened  to  anything  in  history  could 
have  made  the  scene  more  solemn,  I  should  say  that  he  was 
likest  to  the  pictured  or  the  ideal  representation  of  a 
Roundhead  Puritan  dying  for  his  faith,  and  silently  glory 
ing  in  the  sacrifice  not  only  of  life,  but  of  all  that  made 
life  dearest  to  him.  His  wounded  men  showed  in  their 
patient  endurance  the  influence  of  his  example;  while  the 
vulgar  herd  of  lookers-on,  fair  representatives  of  the  cow 
ardly  militia-men  who  had  waited  for  the  little  force  of 
regulars  to  achieve  the  capture  of  the  engine-house  and  its 
garrison,  were  ready  to  prove  their  further  cowardice  by 
maltreating  the  prisoners.  The  marines,  who  alone  had  sac 
rificed  life  in  the  attack,  were  sturdily  bent  on  guarding 
them  from  any  harsh  handling.  I  turned  away  sadly  from 
the  old  man's  side,  sought  and  got  the  information  he 
wanted  concerning  "  his  people,"  as  he  called  them,  and 
was  rewarded  with  his  thanks  in  a  few  simple  words,  and 
in  a  voice  that  was  as  gentle  as  a  woman's. 

The  Governor,  as  soon  as  he  was  told  of  the  condition  of 
the  prisoners,  had  them  cared  for,  and,  in  all  his  bitter 
ness  at  their  doings,  never  spoke  of  them  in  terms  other 
than  honourable  to  himself  and  to  them.  He  persistently 
praised  John  Brown  for  his  bravery  and  his  endurance;  and 


HARPER'S   FERRY  245 

he  was  just  as  firm  in  declaring  him  the  victim  of  shrewd 
and  designing  men,  whose  schemes  he  would  yet  fathom. 

The  day  was  a  busy  one;  for  little  squads  of  regulars 
were  sent  out  on  the  Maryland  Heights  to  search  for  the 
stores  accumulated  there;  and  each  foraging  party  was 
followed  by  a  trail  of  stragglers  from  all  the  volunteers  on 
the  ground,  who  valiantly  kept  on  to  the  Maryland  side  of 
the  bridge  that  crossed  the  Potomac,  and  then,  their  cour 
age  oozing  out  of  their  ringers  and  toes  both,  stopped  there 
and  waited  for  the  return  of  the  regulars.  On  the  instant 
of  their  arrival,  each  time  fetching  a  great  hay-waggon  full 
of  captured  goods,  tents,  picks,  spades,  pikes,  the  tag-rag  and 
bobtail  party  at  once  set  to  work  to  help  themselves  to  the 
nearest  articles,  and  were  soon  seen  making  off  homeward 
with  their  contraband  of  war  on  their  backs.  The  plunder, 
however,  was  not  confined  to  the  captured  property.  A 
strong  force  of  militia  soon  invaded  the  armoury,  and  every 
man  helped  himself  to  a  rifle  and  a  brace  of  pistols,  and 
then,  tiring  of  the  load,  began  to  chaffer  and  bargain  for 
their  sale.  Governor  Wise  was  called  on  to  interfere  and 
preserve  the  Government  property;  he  came  into  the  little 
inclosure  of  the  works,  and  began  an  eloquent  address,  but 
seeing  its  uselessness,  broke  off  and  put  his  Richmond  Greys 
on  guard;  and  then  the  distribution  of  public  property  was 
made  through  the  regular  channels — that  is,  the  men  in 
side  brought  guns  and  pistols  to  the  men  on  guard,  and 
they  passed  them  out  to  their  friends  beyond,  so  that  the 
trade  went  on  almost  as  free  as  ever. 

Night  soon  came,  and  it  was  made  hideous  by  the  drunken 
noise  and  turmoil  of  the  crowd  in  the  village.  Matters  were 
made  worse,  too,  by  the  Governor's  order  to  impress  all 
the  horses;  and  the  decent,  sober  men  trudged  home  rather 
out  of  humour  with  their  patriotic  sacrifice;  while  the  tipsy 
and  pot-valiant  militia  fought  and  squabbled  with  each 


246  HARPER'S   FERRY 

other,  and  only  ceased  that  sport  to  pursue  and  hunt  down 
some  fugitive  negroes,  and  one  or  two  half-maddened 
drunken  fellows  who  in  their  frenzy  proclaimed  themselves 
John  Brown's  men.  Tired  out  at  last,  the  Governor  took 
refuge  in  the  Wager  House — for  an  hour  or  two,  he  had 
stood  on  the  porch  haranguing  an  impatient  crowd  as  "  Sons 
of  Virginia  "! 

Within  doors  the  scene  was  stranger  still.  Huddled 
together  in  the  worst  inn's  worst  room,  the  Governor  and 
his  staff  at  a  table  with  tallow  candles  guttering  in  the 
darkness,  the  Richmond  Greys  lying  around  the  floor  in 
picturesque  and  (then)  novel  pursuit  of  soft  planks,  a  mot 
ley  audience  was  gathered  together  to  hear  the  papers  cap 
tured  at  John  Brown's  house — the  Kennedy  farm  on  Mary 
land  Heights — read  out  with  the  Governor's  running  com 
ments.  The  purpose  of  all  this  was  plain  enough.  It  was 
meant  to  serve  as  proof  of  a  knowledge  and  instigation  of 
the  raid  by  prominent  persons  and  party  leaders  in  the 
North.  The  most  innocent  notes  and  letters,  common 
place  newspaper  paragraphs  and  printed  cuttings,  were  dis 
torted  and  twisted  by  the  reading  and  by  the  talking  into 
clear  instructions  and  positive  plots.  However,  the  main 
impression  was  of  the  picturesqueness  of  the  soldiers  rest 
ing  on  their  knapsacks,  and  their  arms  stacked  in  the  dark 
corner — of  the  Governor  and  his  satellites,  some  of  them 
in  brilliant  militia  array,  seated  around  the  lighted  table, — 
and  of  the  grotesque  eloquence  with  which  either  the  Gov 
ernor  or  some  of  his  prominent  people  would  now  and  then 
burst  out  into  an  oratorical  tirade,  all  thrown  away  on  his 
sleepy  auditors,  and  lost  to  the  world  for  want  of  some 
clever  shorthand  writer. 

In  the  morning  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  my  belated  train 
had  spent  the  last  forty-eight  hours  at  Martinsburg,  and 
I  did  not  a  bit  regret  that  my  two  days  had  been  so  full 


HARPER'S   FERRY  247 

of  adventure  and  incident.  Waiting  for  its  coming,  I 
walked  once  more  through  the  village,  with  one  of  the 
watchmen  of  the  armoury,  who  had  been  captured  by  John 
Brown  and  spent  the  night  with  him  in  the  engine-house, 
and  heard  in  all  its  freshness  the  story  now  so  well  known. 


MICHILIMACINAC 
HENRY   B.   DAWSON 

THE  dispute  with  Great  Britain  had  resulted  in  a 
declaration  of  war  by  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States;  yet,  notwithstanding  an  appeal  to  arms  had  been 
made  by  the  infant  republic,  there  appears  to  have  been 
but  little  preparation  made  to  carry  it  on.  Not  the  least 
of  the  many  subjects  which  appear  to  have  been  almost 
wholly  neglected  by  the  executive  departments  of  the  Gov 
ernment,  was  the  notification  of  the  several  military  posts, 
on  the  frontiers,  of  the  declaration — a  neglect  which  was, 
subsequently,  productive  of  great  mischief  to  the  country. 

At  the  period  in  question,  the  United  States  occupied  the 
Island  of  Michilimacinac  (since  called  Mackinac)  with  a 
small  garrison  of  regular  troops,  not  more  for  the  protec 
tion  of  traders,  than  for  the  purpose  of  holding  a  check  over 
the  Indians  of  the  northwestern  part  of  the  country.  This 
island  is  situated  in  the  straits  which  lead  from  Lake  Mich 
igan  to  Lake  Huron;  is  of  a  circular  form,  about  seven 
miles  in  circumference,  and  from  three  to  four  miles  from 
the  main.  It  is  a  rock  of  limestone,  covered  with  a  rough 
but  fertile  soil,  on  which  is  borne  a  heavy  growth  of  tim 
ber.  The  fort  occupied  a  high  bank  on  the  southeastern 
side  of  the  island,  overlooking  and  commanding  a  fine  har 
bour;  and  was,  itself,  commanded  by  the  high  ground  in 
its  rear,  on  which  had  been  erected  two  block-houses,  each 
of  which  was  defended  by  two  long  nine-pounders,  two 
howitzers,  and  a  brass  three-pounder;  and  a  company  of 
fifty-seven  men,  officers  included,  commanded  by  Lieutenant 

248 


MACHILIMACINAC  249 

Porter  Hanks,  of  the  United  States  Artillery,  formed  the 
garrison.  About  fifty  miles  northeast  from  this  post,  Gen 
eral  Brock,  in  the  spring  of  1812,  had  erected  a  small  work, 
called  Fort  St.  Joseph,  and  had  garrisoned  it  with  a  de 
tachment  of  the  Tenth  Royal  Veteran  Battalion,  forty-five 
in  number,  under  Captain  Charles  Roberts. 

Intelligence  of  the  declaration  of  war  having  been  con 
veyed,  by  express,  from  New  York  to  Queenstown  and 
Montreal,  at  the  expense  of  some  British  merchants  resid 
ing  at  the  former  city,  the  enemy  had  been  apprised  of 
the  measure  at  a  much  earlier  date  than  that  on  which  the 
American  officers  had  received  the  information,  and  the 
latter,  therefore,  laboured  under  great  disadvantages.  One 
of  the  most  notable  instances  of  this  official  neglect,  which 
resulted  in  the  most  serious  consequences  to  the  country, 
was  that  of  the  neglect  to  notify  the  commanders  of  the 
northwestern  posts,  especially  that  of  Michilimacinac,  whose 
first  information  of  the  existence  of  war  was  received  from 
the  enemy,  with  a  demand  for  his  surrender. 

As  before  related,  the  enemy  received  early  advice  of  the 
declaration  of  war  from  the  British  merchants  residing  in 
New  York;  and  one  of  the  first  cares  of  Sir  Isaac  Brock 
was  to  notify  Captain  Roberts,  at  St.  Joseph's,  with  orders 
to  make  an  immediate  attack  on  Michilimacinac,  if  prac 
ticable;  or,  in  the  event  of  an  attack  on  his  post,  by  the 
Americans,  to  defend  it  to  the  last  extremity.  At  a  subse 
quent  date  the  order  was  renewed,  with  directions  to  sum 
mon  the  neighbouring  Indians  to  his  assistance,  and  to  ask 
for  the  same  purpose,  the  co-operation  of  such  of  the  em 
ployees  of  the  British  fur  companies,  who  might  happen  to 
be  near  him;  and,  still  later,  the  Captain  was  left  to  his 
own  discretion  to  adopt  either  offensive  or  defensive  meas 
ures,  as  circumstances  might  warrant.  With  a  degree  of 
promptitude  which  reflects  honour  on  his  professional  char- 


250  MACHILIMACINAC 

acter,  Captain  Roberts  decided  to  act  offensively;  and  he 
took  immediate  measures  to  insure  a  successful  termination 
of  his  enterprise.  He  was  far  beyond  the  limits  within 
which  he  could  have  commanded  the  assistance  of  other 
portions  of  the  Royal  forces;  and  he  fell  back  on  the  lim 
ited  resources  of  his  secluded  position  with  remarkably  good 
judgment  and  success.  Calling  to  his  quarters  Mr.  Pothier, 
an  agent  of  the  Southwest  Company,  who  was  then  at  St. 
Joseph's,  he  laid  before  that  gentleman  his  proposed  plan 
of  operations,  and  solicited  his  assistance.  Mr.  Pothier, 
struck  with  the  importance  of  the  projected  enterprise,  and 
the  feasibility  of  the  plan  of  operations,  immediately  opened 
the  stores  of  the  company,  and  placed  everything  they  con 
tained,  which  might  contribute  to  the  success  of  the  expe 
dition,  at  the  command  of  Captain  Roberts;  while,  at  the 
same  time,  he  offered  his  own  services,  as  a  volunteer,  with 
those  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  Canadian  voyageurs — 
employees  of  the  company — one-half  of  whom  he  armed 
with  muskets  or  fowling-pieces.  Captain  Roberts  also  in 
vited  the  assistance  of  the  neighbouring  Indians — both 
American  and  British — and  about  four  hundred  and 
twenty-five  of  the  savages  responded  to  his  call. 

On  the  day  after  the  receipt  of  the  orders  last  referred 
to  (July  16),  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Captain  Rob 
erts  embarked,  with  his  entire  force — regular,  volunteer, 
and  savage — and  two  iron  six-pounders,  and  under  the 
convoy  of  the  Northwest  Company's  brig  Caledonia,  which 
was  laden  with  stores  and  provisions,  he  approached  the 
Island  of  Michilimacinac.  At  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
of  the  seventeenth  of  July,  the  flotilla  reached  the  place  of 
rendezvous;  and  one  of  the  two  guns  was  immediately 
taken  up  the  high  ground  in  the  rear  of  the  fort,  and 
placed  in  battery  in  a  position  which  completely  com 
manded  the  garrison. 


MACHILIMACINAC  251 

In  the  meantime,  Lieutenant  Hanks  and  his  little  com 
mand  remained  comparatively  ignorant  of  their  impending 
danger.  It  is  true,  an  Indian  interpreter  had  told  the  Lieu 
tenant,  on  the  sixteenth,  that  the  Indians  at  St.  Joseph's 
intended  to  make  an  immediate  attack  on  the  post;  and 
from  the  sudden  coolness  which  some  of  the  chiefs,  in  the 
vicinity  of  his  post,  had  displayed,  he  appears  to  have  been 
inclined  to  believe  the  interpreter's  information.  He  im 
mediately  called  a  council,  and  invited  "  the  American  gen 
tlemen  at  that  time  on  the  island  "  to  participate  in  the 
deliberations;  the  result  of  which  was  the  appointment  of 
Captain  Daurman,  as  a  scout,  to  proceed  to  St.  Joseph's  to 
watch  the  motions  of  the  Indians.  The  Captain  embarked 
about  sunset,  and  had  proceeded  only  a  short  distance  before 
he  met  the  enemy's  flotilla,  by  whom  he  was  captured,  and 
returned  to  the  island.  At  daybreak  he  was  landed,  with 
instructions  to  remove  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  little  vil 
lage  to  the  west  side  of  the  island — where  the  enemy's 
flotilla  then  laid — in  order  that  their  persons  and  prop 
erty  might  be  protected;  at  the  same  time  forbidding  him 
from  conveying  any  information  to  the  garrison,  and 
threatening  with  extermination  all  those  who  might  seek 
refuge  with  the  garrison  and  offer  any  resistance.  The  in 
habitants  of  the  village  appear  to  have  obeyed  the  order 
without  any  delay;  and  the  intelligence  of  their  exodus, 
which  was  carried  to  the  fort  by  Doctor  Day,  who  was 
passing  that  way,  was  the  first  intimation  which  Lieu 
tenant  Hanks  had  received  of  the  presence  of  an  enemy  of 
any  kind,  nor  did  he  then  suspect  that  the  intruders  were 
subjects  of  his  Britannic  majesty,  lawfully  prosecuting  a 
warfare  which  his  own  government  had  declared,  nearly  a 
month  before  that  time.  He  lost  no  time,  however,  in 
ordering  the  block-houses,  on  the  high  ground  in  his 
rear,  to  be  occupied  and  supplied  with  ammunition  and 


252  MACHILIMACINAC 

stores;  and  every  gun  in  the  main  works  was  prepared  for 
action. 

By  this  time,  however,  the  enemy  had  gained  the  heights, 
and  placed  his  gun  in  battery,  as  before  referred  to,  while 
the  Indians,  in  great  numbers,  showed  themselves  in  the 
margin  of  the  woods,  near  the  fort.  At  about  eleven 
o'clock  a  flag  was  sent,  requiring  the  surrender  of  the  fort 
and  its  garrison  to  his  Britannic  majesty's  forces — the  ear 
liest  notice  which  the  garrison  had  received  of  the  char 
acter  of  their  enemy.  After  consulting  his  officers  and  the 
American  gentlemen  who  were  present;  and  taking  into 
consideration  the  strength  and  disposition  of  the  enemy,  it 
was  resolved  to  yield  to  the  demand;  and  the  fort  and  the 
island  were,  accordingly,  surrendered  to  the  arms  of  Great 
Britain. 

Of  the  great  importance  of  this  conquest,  both  parties 
were  immediately  fully  sensible.  Not  only  were  the  stores 
which  were  taken  quite  valuable,  but  seven  hundred  pack 
ages  of  furs  were  among  the  trophies  of  the  victory.  But 
not  alone  from  the  value  of  the  spoils  does  the  interest 
which  has  attached  to  this  affair  arise.  General  Hull  has 
shown  Its  effects  in  the  most  vivid  colours  when  he  said, 
ff  After  the  surrender  of  Michilimacinac,  almost  every  tribe 
and  nation  of  Indians,  excepting  a  part  of  the  Miamis  and 
Delawares,  north  from  beyond  Lake  Superior,  west  from 
beyond  the  Mississippi,  south  from  the  Ohio  and  Wabash, 
and  east  from  every  part  of  Upper  Canada,  and  from  all 
the  intermediate  country,  joined  in  open  hostility,  under  the 
British  standard,  against  the  army  I  commanded,  contrary 
to  the  most  solemn  assurance  of  a  large  portion  of  them  to 
remain  neutral."  The  same  views  were  entertained  by  the 
enemy;  and  the  standard  British  authorities  on  the  history 
of  those  times,  have  left  on  record  their  testimony  to  the 
same  effect. 


NARRAGANSETT 

WASHINGTON   IRVING 

'  I  NHE  nature  of  the  contest  that  ensued  was  such  as  too 
•••  often  distinguishes  the  warfare  between  civilized 
men  and  savages.  On  the  part  of  the  whites,  it  was  con 
ducted  with  superior  skill  and  success;  but  with  a  waste 
fulness  of  the  blood  and  a  disregard  of  the  natural  rights 
of  their  antagonists;  on  the  part  of  the  Indians,  it  was 
waged  with  the  desperation  of  men  fearless  of  death,  and 
who  had  nothing  to  expect  from  peace,  but  humiliation, 
dependence,  and  decay. 

The  project  of  a  wide  and  simultaneous  revolt,  if  such 
had  really  been  formed,  was  worthy  of  a  capacious  mind, 
and,  had  it  not  been  prematurely  discovered,  might  have 
been  overwhelming  in  its  consequences.  The  war  that  act 
ually  broke  out,  was  but  a  war  of  detail,  a  mere  succession 
of  casual  exploits  and  unconnected  enterprises.  Still,  it  sets 
forth  the  military  genius  and  daring  prowess  of  Philip;  and 
wherever,  in  the  prejudiced  and  passionate  narrations  that 
have  been  given  of  it,  we  can  arrive  at  simple  facts,  we 
find  him  displaying  a  vigorous  mind,  a  fertility  of  expe 
dients,  a  contempt  of  suffering  and  hardship,  and  an  un 
conquerable  resolution,  that  command  our  sympathy  and 
applause. 

Driven  from  his  paternal  domains  at  Mount  Hope,  he 
threw  himself  into  the  depths  of  those  vast  and  trackless 
forests  that  skirted  the  settlements,  and  were  almost  im 
pervious  to  anything  but  a  wild  beast  or  an  Indian.  Here 
he  gathered  together  his  forces,  like  the  storm  accumulating 

253 


254  NARRAGANSETT 

its  stores  of  mischief  in  the  bosom  of  the  thunder-cloud,  and 
would  suddenly  emerge  at  a  time  and  place  least  expected, 
carrying  havoc  and  dismay  into  the  villages. 

There  were,  now  and  then,  indications  of  these  impend 
ing  ravages,  that  filled  the  minds  of  the  colonists  with  awe 
and  apprehension.  The  report  of  a  distant  gun  would  per 
haps  be  heard  from  the  solitary  woodland,  where  there 
was  known  to  be  no  white  man;  the  cattle  which  had 
been  wandering  in  the  woods  would  sometimes  return  home 
wounded;  or  an  Indian  or  two  would  be  seen  lurking  about 
the  skirts  of  the  forests,  and  suddenly  disappearing;  as  the 
lightning  will  sometimes  be  seen  playing  silently  about  the 
edge  of  the  cloud  that  is  brewing  up  the  tempest. 

Though  sometimes  pursued,  and  even  surrounded,  by  the 
settlers,  yet  Philip  as  often  escaped,  almost  miraculously, 
from  their  toils,  and,  plunging  into  the  wilderness,  would 
be  lost  to  all  search  or  inquiry,  until  he  again  emerged  at 
some  far-distant  quarter,  laying  the  country  desolate. 
Among  his  strongholds  were  the  great  swamps  or  morasses 
which  extend  in  some  parts  of  New  England,  composed  of 
loose  bogs  of  deep  black  mud,  perplexed  with  thickets,  bram 
bles,  rank  weeds,  the  shattered  and  mouldering  trunks  of 
fallen  trees,  overshadowed  by  lugubrious  hemlocks.  The 
uncertain  footing  and  the  tangled  mazes  of  these  shaggy 
wilds  rendered  them  almost  impracticable  to  the  white 
man,  though  the  Indian  could  thrid  their  labyrinths  with 
the  agility  of  a  deer. 

Into  one  of  these,  the  great  swamp  of  Pocasset  Neck,  was 
Philip  once  driven  with  a  band  of  his  followers.  The  Eng 
lish  did  not  dare  to  pursue  him,  fearing  to  venture  into  these 
dark  and  frightful  recesses,  where  they  might  perish  in  fens 
and  miry  pits,  or  be  shot  down  by  lurking  foes.  They 
therefore  invested  the  entrance  to  the  Neck,  and  began  to 
build  a  fort,  with  the  thought  of  starving  out  the  foe;  but 


NARRAGANSETT  255 

Philip  and  his  warriors  wafted  themselves  on  a  raft  over  an 
arm  of  the  sea,  in  the  dead  of  night,  leaving  the  women  and 
children  behind,  and  escaped  away  to  the  westward,  kin 
dling  the  flames  of  war  among  the  tribes  of  Massachusetts 
and  the  Nipmuck  country,  and  threatening  the  colony  of 
Connecticut. 

In  this  way,  Philip  became  a  theme  of  universal  appre 
hension.  The  mystery  in  which  he  was  enveloped  exag 
gerated  his  real  terrors.  He  was  an  evil  that  walked  in 
darkness;  whose  coming  none  could  foresee,  and  against 
which  none  knew  when  to  be  on  the  alert.  The  whole 
country  abounded  with  rumours  and  alarms.  Philip  seemed 
almost  possessed  of  ubiquity;  for,  in  whatever  part  of  the 
widely-extended  frontier  an  irruption  from  the  forest  took 
place,  Philip  was  said  to  be  its  leader. 

Many  superstitious  notions  also  were  circulated  concern 
ing  him.  He  was  said  to  deal  in  necromancy,  and  to  be 
attended  by  an  old  Indian  witch  or  prophetess,  whom  he 
consulted,  and  who  assisted  him  by  her  charms  and  incanta 
tions.  This,  indeed,  was  frequently  the  case  with  Indian 
chiefs;  either  through  their  own  credulity,  or  to  act  upon 
that  of  their  followers;  and  the  influence  of  the  prophet 
and  the  dreamer  over  Indian  superstition  has  been  fully 
evidenced  in  recent  instances  of  savage  warfare. 

At  the  time  that  Philip  effected  his  escape  from  Pocas- 
set,  his  fortunes  were  in  a  desperate  condition.  His  forces 
had  been  thinned  by  repeated  fights,  and  he  had  lost  almost 
the  whole  of  his  resources.  In  this  time  of  adversity  he 
found  a  faithful  friend  in  Canonchet,  chief  sachem  of  all 
the  Narragansetts.  He  was  the  son  and  heir  of  Mian- 
tonimo,  the  great  sachem,  who,  after  an  honourable  acquit 
tal  of  the  charge  of  conspiracy,  had  been  privately  put  to 
death  at  the  perfidious  instigations  of  the  settlers.  "  He 
was  the  heir,"  says  the  old  chronicler,  "  of  all  his  father's 


256  NARRAGANSETT 

pride  and  insolence,  as  well  as  of  his  malice  toward  the  Eng 
lish  " — he  certainly  was  the  heir  of  his  insults  and  injuries, 
and  the  legitimate  avenger  of  his  murder. 

Though  he  had  forborne  to  take  an  active  part  in  this 
hopeless  war,  yet  he  received  Philip  and  his  broken  forces 
with  open  arms;  and  gave  them  the  most  generous  counte 
nance  and  support.  This  at  once  drew  upon  him  the  hos 
tility  of  the  English;  and  it  was  determined  to  strike  a 
signal  blow  that  should  involve  both  the  sachems  in  one 
common  ruin.  A  great  force  was,  therefore,  gathered  to 
gether  from  Massachusetts,  Plymouth,  and  Connecticut, 
and  was  sent  into  the  Narraganset  country  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  when  the  swamps,  being  frozen  and  leafless,  could 
be  traversed  with  comparative  facility,  and  would  no  longer 
afford  dark  and  impenetrable  fastnesses  to  the  Indians. 

Apprehensive  of  attack,  Canonchet  had  conveyed  the 
greater  part  of  his  stores,  together  with  the  old,  the  infirm, 
the  women  and  children  of  his  tribe,  to  a  strong  fortress; 
where  he  and  Philip  had  likewise  drawn  up  the  flower  of 
their  forces.  This  fortress,  deemed  by  the  Indians  impreg 
nable,  was  situated  upon  a  rising  mound  or  kind  of  island, 
of  five  or  six  acres,  in  the  midst  of  a  swamp;  it  was  con 
structed  with  a  degree  of  judgment  and  skill  vastly  supe 
rior  to  what  is  usually  displayed  in  Indian  fortification, 
and  indicative  of  the  martial  genius  of  these  two  chieftains. 

Guided  by  a  renegade  Indian,  the  English  penetrated, 
through  December  snows,  to  this  stronghold,  and  came  upon 
the  garrison  by  surprise.  The  fight  was  fierce  and  tumul 
tuous.  The  assailants  were  repulsed  in  their  first  attack, 
and  several  of  their  bravest  officers  were  shot  down  in  the 
act  of  storming  the  fortress,  sword  in  hand.  The  assault 
was  renewed  with  greater  success.  A  lodgment  was  ef 
fected.  The  Indians  were  driven  from  one  post  to  another. 
They  disputed  their  ground  inch  by  inch,  fighting  with  the 


NARRAGANSETT  257 

fury  of  despair.  Most  of  their  veterans  were  cut  to  pieces; 
and  after  a  long  and  bloody  battle,  Philip  and  Canonchet, 
with  a  handful  of  surviving  warriors,  retreated  from  the 
fort,  and  took  refuge  in  the  thickets  of  the  surrounding 
forest. 

The  victors  set  fire  to  the  wigwams  and  the  fort;  the 
whole  was  soon  in  a  blaze;  many  of  the  old  men,  the  women 
and  the  children  perished  in  the  flames.  This  last  outrage 
overcame  even  the  stoicism  of  the  savage.  The  neighbour 
ing  woods  resounded  with  the  yells  of  rage  and  despair 
uttered  by  the  fugitive  warriors,  as  they  beheld  the  destruc 
tion  of  their  dwellings,  and  heard  the  agonizing  cries  of  their 
wives  and  offspring. 

"  The  burning  of  the  wigwams,"  says  a  contemporary 
writer,  "  the  shrieks  and  cries  of  the  women  and  children, 
and  the  yelling  of  the  warriors,  exhibited  a  most  horrible 
and  affecting  scene,  so  that  it  greatly  moved  some  of  the 
soldiers."  The  same  writer  cautiously  adds,  "  they  were 
in  much  doubt  then,  and  afterward  seriously  inquired, 
whether  burning  their  enemies  alive  could  be  consistent 
with  humanity,  and  the  benevolent  principles  of  the 
Gospel." 

The  defeat  at  the  Narranganset  fortress  and  the  death  of 
Canonchet,  were  fatal  blows  to  the  fortunes  of  King  Philip. 
He  made  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  raise  a  head  of  war  by 
stirring  up  the  Mohawks  to  take  arms;  but  though  pos 
sessed  of  the  native  talents  of  a  statesman,  his  arts  were 
counteracted  by  the  superior  arts  of  his  enlightened  enemies, 
and  the  terror  of  their  warlike  skill  began  to  subdue  the 
resolution  of  the  neighbouring  tribes.  The  unfortunate 
chieftain  saw  himself  daily  stripped  of  power,  and  the  ranks 
rapidly  thinning  around  him. 

Some  were  suborned  by  the  whites;  others  fell  victims  to 
hunger  and  fatigue,  and  to  the  frequent  attacks  by  which 


258  NARRAGANSETT 

they  were  harassed.  His  stores  were  all  captured;  his 
chosen  friends  were  swept  away  from  before  his  eyes;  his 
uncle  was  shot  down  by  his  side;  his  sister  was  carried  into 
captivity;  and  in  one  of  his  narrow  escapes  he  was  com 
pelled  to  leave  his  beloved  wife  and  only  son  to  the  mercy 
of  the  enemy.  "  His  ruin,"  says  the  historian,  "  being  thus 
gradually  carried  on,  his  misery  was  not  prevented,  but 
augmented  thereby;  being  himself  made  acquainted  with 
the  sense  and  experimental  feeling  of  the  captivity  of  his 
children,  loss  of  friends,  slaughter  of  his  subjects,  bereave 
ment  of  all  family  relations,  and  being  stripped  of  all  out 
ward  comforts,  before  his  own  life  should  be  taken  away." 

However  Philip  had  borne  up  against  the  complicated 
miseries  and  misfortunes  that  surrounded  him,  the  treachery 
of  his  followers  seemed  to  worry  his  heart  and  reduce  him 
to  despondency.  It  is  said  that  "  he  never  rejoiced  after 
ward,  nor  had  success  in  any  of  his  designs."  The  spring 
of  hope  was  broken — the  ardour  of  enterprise  was  extin 
guished — he  looked  around,  and  all  was  danger  and  dark 
ness;  there  was  no  eye  to  pity,  nor  any  arm  that  could 
bring  deliverance.  With  a  scanty  band  of  followers,  who 
still  remained  true  to  his  desperate  fortunes,  the  unhappy 
Philip  wandered  back  to  Mount  Hope,  the  ancient  dwell 
ing  of  his  fathers. 

Here  he  lurked  about,  like  a  spectre,  among  scenes  of 
former  power  and  prosperity,  now  bereft  of  home,  of  fam 
ily,  and  friend.  There  needs  no  better  picture  of  his  desti 
tute  and  piteous  situation,  than  that  furnished  by  the  homely 
pen  of  the  chronicler,  who  is  unwarily  enlisting  the  feelings 
of  the  reader  in  favour  of  the  hapless  warrior  whom  he 
reviles.  "  Philip,"  he  says,  "  like  a  savage  wild  beast,  hav 
ing  been  hunted  by  the  English  forces  through  the  woods, 
above  a  hundred  miles  backward  and  forward,  at  last  was 
driven  to  his  own  den  upon  Mount  Hope,  where  he  retired, 


NARRAGANSETT  259 

with  a  few  of  his  best  friends,  into  a  swamp,  which  proved 
but  a  prison  to  keep  him  fast  till  the  messengers  of  death 
came  by  divine  permission  to  execute  vengeance  upon  him." 

Even  in  this  last  refuge  of  desperation  and  despair,  a  sul 
len  grandeur  gathers  round  his  memory.  We  picture  him 
to  ourselves  seated  among  his  careworn  followers,  brooding 
in  silence  over  his  blasted  fortunes,  and  acquiring  a  savage 
sublimity  from  the  wildness  and  dreariness  of  his  lurking- 
place.  Defeated,  but  not  dismayed — crushed  to  the  earth, 
but  not  humiliated — he  seemed  to  grow  more  haughty  be 
neath  disaster,  and  to  experience  a  fierce  satisfaction  in 
draining  the  last  dregs  of  bitterness. 

Little  minds  are  tamed  and  subdued  by  misfortune,  but 
great  minds  rise  above  it.  The  very  idea  of  submission 
awakened  the  fury  of  Philip,  and  he  smote  to  death  one  of 
his  followers,  who  proposed  an  expedient  of  peace.  The 
brother  of  the  victim  made  his  escape,  and  in  revenge  be 
trayed  the  retreat  of  his  chieftain.  A  body  of  white  men 
and  Indians  were  immediately  despatched  to  the  swamp 
where  Philip  lay  crouched,  glaring  with  fury  and  despair. 
Before  he  was  aware  of  their  approach,  they  had  begun  to 
surround  him.  In  a  little  while  he  saw  five  of  his  trustiest 
followers  laid  dead  at  his  feet;  all  resistance  was  vain;  he 
rushed  forth  from  his  covert,  and  made  a  headlong  attempt 
to  escape,  but  was  shot  through  the  heart  by  a  renegade 
Indian  of  his  own  nation. 

Such  is  the  scanty  story  of  the  brave  but  unfortunate 
King  Philip;  persecuted  while  living,  slandered  and  dis 
honoured  when  dead.  If,  however,  we  consider  even  the 
prejudiced  anecdotes  furnished  us  by  his  enemies,  we  may 
perceive  in  them  traces  of  amiable  and  lofty  character  suf 
ficient  to  awaken  sympathy  for  his  fate,  and  respect  for  his 
memory.  We  find  that,  amidst  all  the  harassing  cares 
and  ferocious  passions  of  constant  warfare,  he  was  alive  to 


260  NARRAGANSETT 

the  softer  feelings  of  connubial  love  and  paternal  tender 
ness,  and  to  the  generous  sentiment  of  friendship.  The 
captivity  of  his  "  beloved  wife  and  only  son  "  is  mentioned 
with  exultation  as  causing  his  poignant  misery;  the  death 
of  any  near  friend  is  triumphantly  recorded  as  a  new  blow 
on  his  sensibilities;  but  the  treachery  and  desertion  of  many 
of  his  followers,  in  whose  affections  he  had  confided,  is  said 
to  have  desolated  his  heart,  and  to  have  bereaved  him  of  all 
further  comfort. 

He  was  a  patriot  attached  to  his  native  soil — a  prince 
true  to  his  subjects,  and  indignant  of  their  wrongs — a  sol 
dier  daring  in  battle,  firm  in  adversity,  patient  of  fatigue, 
of  hunger,  of  every  variety  of  bodily  suffering,  and  ready 
to  perish  in  the  cause  he  had  espoused.  Proud  of  heart, 
and  with  an  untamable  love  of  natural  liberty,  he  preferred 
to  enjoy  it  among  the  beasts  of  the  forests,  or  in  the  dis 
mal  and  famished  recesses  of  swamps  and  morasses,  rather 
than  bow  his  haughty  spirit  to  submission,  and  live  depend 
ent  and  despised  in  the  ease  and  luxury  of  the  settlements. 
With  heroic  qualities  and  bold  achievements  that  would 
have  graced  a  civilized  warrior,  and  have  rendered  him  the 
theme  of  the  poet  and  the  historian,  he  lived  a  wanderer 
and  a  fugitive  in  his  native  land,  and  went  down — like  a 
lonely  bark  foundering  amid  darkness  and  tempest — -with 
out  a  pitying  eye  to  weep  his  fall,  or  a  friendly  hand  to 
record  his  struggle. 


THE   SETTLEMENT   OF  JAMESTOWN 
SAMUEL    RAWSON    GARDINER 

December  19,  1606,  the  little  company  which  was 
destined  to  succeed  where  so  many  had  failed,  sailed 
from  the  Thames  in  three  small  vessels.  They  were  in  all 
a  hundred  and  five.  The  vessels  were  commanded  by  a 
Captain  Newport.  It  was  arranged  that  the  names  of  the 
colonial  council  should  be  kept  secret  until  the  arrival  of 
the  expedition  in  America.  This  precaution  had  probably 
been  taken  to  prevent  any  collision  between  Newport  and 
the  colonial  authorities.  It  was,  however,  attended  with 
unforeseen  results.  The  chief  persons  who  had  engaged  in 
the  undertaking  were  jealous  of  the  abilities  of  Smith,  and 
absurd  rumours  were  spread  among  them  that  he  intended 
to  make  himself  King  of  Virginia.  They,  therefore,  re 
solved  upon  intercepting  his  supposed  design  by  placing 
him  in  confinement;  and  they  conducted  across  the  Atlantic 
as  a  prisoner  the  man  to  whom  the  whole  conduct  of  the 
enterprise  ought  to  have  been  confided. 

After  a  tedious  voyage,  the  expedition  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Chesapeake.  They  gave  to  the  headlands 
between  which  they  sailed  the  names  of  Cape  Henry  and 
Cape  Charles,  in  honour  of  the  two  English  princes.  As 
soon  as  they  had  landed,  they  opened  their  instructions,  and 
found  that  seven  of  their  number  had  been  appointed  to 
form  the  council,  and  that  both  Smith  and  Gosnold  were 
included  in  the  number.  After  some  hesitation,  they  se 
lected  a  site  upon  a  stream  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of 
the  James  River,  upon  which  they  proceeded  to  build  the 

261 


262        THE  SETTLEMENT    OF  JAMESTOWN 

town  which  is  known  as  Jamestown  to  this  day.  The  first 
act  of  the  council  was  to  nominate  Wingfield,  one  of  the 
earlier  promoters  of  the  expedition,  to  the  presidency,  and 
to  expel  Smith  from  their  body.  It  was  not  till  some  weeks 
had  passed  that  they  were  persuaded  to  allow  him  to  take 
his  seat. 

In  June  Newport  returned  to  England  with  the  vessels. 
As  soon  as  he  had  left  Virginia  the  troubles  of  the  colonists 
began.  They  had  arrived  too  late  in  the  season  to  allow 
them  to  sow  the  seed  which  they  had  brought  with  them 
with  any  hope  of  obtaining  a  crop.  The  food  which  was 
left  behind  for  their  support  was  bad  in  quality,  and  the 
hot  weather  brought  disease  with  it.  Nearly  fifty  of  their 
number  were  gentlemen  who  had  never  been  accustomed 
to  manual  labour.  Half  of  the  little  company  were  swept 
away  before  the  beginning  of  September.  Among  those 
who  perished  was  Gosnold,  whose  energetic  disposition 
might,  perhaps,  if  he  had  survived,  done  good  service  to  the 
colony.  To  make  matters  worse,  the  president  was  inef 
ficient  and  selfish,  and  cared  little  about  the  welfare  of  his 
comrades,  if  he  only  had  food  enough  for  himself.  The 
council  deposed  him;  but  his  successor,  Radcliffe,  was 
equally  incompetent,  and  it  was  only  by  the  unexpected 
kindness  of  the  natives  that  the  colonists  were  enabled  to 
maintain  their  existence.  As  the  winter  approached,  their 
stock  was  increased  by  large  numbers  of  wild  fowl  which 
came  within  their  reach.  In  spite,  however,  of  this  change 
in  their  circumstances,  it  was  only  at  Smith's  earnest  en 
treaty  that  they  were  prevented  from  abandoning  the  col 
ony  and  returning  to  England. 

During  the  winter,  Smith  employed  himself  in  explor 
ing  the  country.  In  one  of  his  expeditions  he  was  taken 
prisoner  by  the  Indians.  Any  other  man  would  have  been 
instantly  massacred.  With  great  presence  of  mind,  he  took 


THE  SETTLEMENT    OF  JAMESTOWN        263 

a  compass  out  of  his  pocket,  and  began  talking  to  them 
about  its  wonders.  Upon  this,  the  chief  forbade  them  to 
do  him  any  harm,  and  ordered  him  to  be  carried  to  their 
village. 

While  he  was  there  he  still  more  astonished  his  captors 
by  sending  a  party  of  them  with  a  letter  to  Jamestown. 
They  were  unable  to  comprehend  how  his  wishes  could  be 
conveyed  by  means  of  a  piece  of  paper.  At  last  he  was 
conducted  before  Powhatan,  the  superior  chief  over  all  the 
tribes  of  that  part  of  the  country.  After  a  long  consulta 
tion,  it  was  determined  to  put  him  to  death.  He  was 
dragged  forward,  and  his  head  was  laid  upon  a  large  stone, 
upon  which  the  Indians  were  preparing  to  beat  out  his 
brains  with  their  clubs.  Even  then  his  good  fortune  did 
not  desert  him.  The  chief's  daughter,  Pocahontas,  a  young 
girl  of  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age,  rushed  forward,  and, 
taking  him  in  her  arms,  laid  her  head  upon  his,  to  shield 
it  from  the  clubs.  The  chief  gave  way  before  the  entreaties 
of  his  daughter,  and  allowed  him  full  liberty  to  return  to 
Jamestown. 

On  his  arrival  there,  he  found  all  things  in  confusion. 
The  president  had  again  formed  the  intention  of  abandon 
ing  the  colony,  and  was  only  deterred  once  more  by  the 
energetic  exertions  of  Smith.  The  colonists  were  also  in 
debted  to  him  for  the  liberal  supplies  of  provisions  which 
were  from  time  to  time  brought  to  them  by  Pocahontas. 

He  had  not  been  long  at  liberty,  when  Newport  arrived 
with  a  fresh  supply  of  provisions.  He  also  brought  with 
him  about  a  hundred  and  twenty  men,  the  greater  part  of 
whom  were  bent  upon  digging  for  gold.  Smith  applied  him 
self  to  the  more  profitable  undertaking  of  carrying  his 
explorations  over  the  whole  of  the  surrounding  country. 
The  gold-diggers  did  not  add  anything  to  the  stock  of  the 
community;  and  it  was  only  by  the  arrival  of  another  ship 


264        THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   JAMESTOWN 

that  the  colonists  were  enabled  during  the  summer  of 
1608  to  avoid  absolute  starvation.  Some  little  corn  had, 
however,  been  sown  in  the  spring,  and  it  was  hoped  that, 
with  the  help  of  what  they  could  obtain  from  the  natives, 
there  would  be  sufficient  provision  for  the  winter. 

Shortly  after  Newport  had  again  left  the  colony,  Smith 
returned  from  one  of  his  exploring  expeditions.  He  found 
the  whole  colony  dissatisfied  with  the  conduct  of  the  inca 
pable  president,  who,  with  the  exception  of  Smith,  was  the 
only  member  of  the  original  council  still  remaining  in  Vir 
ginia.  A  third  member  had,  however,  been  sent  out  from 
England.  This  man,  whose  name  was  Scrivener,  had  at 
tached  himself  wrarmly  to  Smith,  and,  to  the  general  satis 
faction  of  the  settlers,  the  two  friends  deposed  Radclifie, 
and  appointed  Smith  to  fill  his  place. 

Smith  had  not  long  been  president  when  Newport  again 
arrived.  The  members  of  the  company  in  England  were 
anxious  to  see  a  return  for  the  capital  which  they  had  ex 
pended.  They  pressed  Smith  to  send  them  gold,  and  threat 
ened  to  leave  the  colony  to  starve,  if  their  wishes  were  not 
complied  with.  The  only  conditions  on  which  he  was  to 
be  excused  were  the  discovery  of  a  passage  into  the  Pacific, 
or  of  the  lost  colony  which  had  been  founded  by  Raleigh. 
They  sent  him  seventy  more  men,  of  whom,  as  usual,  the 
greater  number  were  gentlemen.  They  expected  him  to 
send  them  home,  in  return,  pitch,  tar,  soap-ashes,  and  glass. 
To  assist  him  in  this  they  put  on  board  eight  Poles  and 
Dutchmen,  who  were  skilled  in  such  manufactures. 

He  at  once  wrote  home  to  the  treasurer  of  the  company, 
Sir  Thomas  Smith,  explaining  to  him  the  absurdity  of  these 
demands.  The  colonists,  he  told  him,  must  be  able  to  feed 
themselves  before  they  could  establish  manufactures.  If 
any  more  men  were  sent  out,  "  but  thirty  carpenters,  hus 
bandmen,  gardners,  fishermen,  blacksmiths,  masons  and 


THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   JAMESTOWN        265 

diggers  up  of  trees  "  and  "  roots,"  would  be  better  "  than 
a  thousand  of  such  "  as  had  lately  arrived. 

Under  Smith's  rule  the  settlement  passed  safely  through 
another  winter.  The  Indians  were  compelled  to  respect 
the  rising  colony.  The  greater  part  of  the  gentlemen  were 
induced  to  work  heartily,  and  those  who  refused  were  told 
plainly  that  if  they  would  not  do  the  work  they  would  be 
left  to  starve.  It  appeared  as  if,  at  last,  the  worst  diffi 
culties  had  been  overcome. 

The  summer  of  1609  was  drawing  to  a  close,  when 
news  arrived  in  Virginia  that  a  fresh  charter  had  been 
granted,  by  which  considerable  changes  were  authorized  in 
the  government  of  the  colony.  The  working  of  the  orig 
inal  arrangements  had  been,  in  many  respects,  unsatisfac 
tory.  The  council  at  home,  which  had  been  enlarged  in 
1607,  had  found  but  little  to  do,  as  all  practical  business 
connected  with  the  support  of  the  colony  was  in  the  hands 
of  the  company.  The  company  itself  had  proved  but  ill- 
fitted  to  devise  the  best  measures  for  a  quick  return  for 
the  money  which  they  had  laid  out,  and  had  been  too 
eager  to  press  the  colonists  to  engage  in  trade  before  they 
had  brought  under  cultivation  a  sufficient  quantity  of  land 
for  their  own  support. 

Undoubtedly  the  best  thing  which  the  new  council  could 
have  done  would  have  been  to  have  placed  Smith  at  the 
head  of  the  settlement.  But,  being  ignorant  of  his  true 
value,  they  took  the  next  best  step  in  their  power.  The 
government  of  merchants  and  captains  had  proved  only 
another  name  for  organized  disorder.  They,  therefore, 
determined  to  try  the  experiment  of  sending  out  persons 
whose  rank  had  made  them  accustomed  to  command,  and 
who,  if  they  were  under  the  disadvantage  of  being  new  to 
colonial  life,  might  be  supposed  to  be  able  to  obtain  respect 
from  the  factions  by  which  the  colony  was  distracted.  It 


266        THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   JAMESTOWN 

was  also  plain  that  the  settlement  must  be  regarded,  at 
least  for  the  present,  as  a  garrison  in  a  hostile  country, 
and  that  the  new  government  must  be  empowered  to  exer 
cise  military  discipline.  The  selections  were  undoubtedly 
good.  Lord  de  la  Warr,  an  able  and  conscientious  man, 
was  to  preside,  under  the  name  of  General;  Sir  Thomas 
Gates,  one  of  the  oldest  promoters  of  the  undertaking,  was 
to  act  as  his  Lieutenant;  Sir  George  Somers  was  to  com 
mand  the  vessels  of  the  company  as  Admiral;  Sir  Thomas 
Dale,  an  old  soldier  from  the  Low  Country  wars,  was  to 
keep  up  discipline  as  Marshal;  while  Sir  Ferdinando  Wain- 
man  was  invested  with  the  rather  unnecessary  title  of  Gen 
eral  of  the  Horse.  Lord  de  la  Warr  was  to  be  preceded  by 
Gates,  Somers,  and  Newport,  who  were  jointly  to  admin 
ister  the  government  till  the  appearance  of  the  General 
himself. 

The  whole  scheme  was  well  contrived,  and,  if  it  had 
been  carried  out  according  to  the  intentions  of  the  council, 
all  would  have  gone  well.  In  May,  nine  ships  sailed  with 
five  hundred  fresh  men  to  recruit  the  colony,  and  with 
large  stores  of  provisions.  Unfortunately,  the  ship  which 
contained  the  three  commissioners  was  wrecked  on  the  Ber 
mudas,  and  the  remaining  vessels,  with  the  exception  of 
one  which  perished  at  sea,  arrived  in  the  Chesapeake  with 
the  information  that  Smith's  authority  was  at  an  end,  but 
without  bringing  any  new  officers  to  fill  his  place.  To 
make  matters  worse,  the  men  who  arrived  were  chiefly  a 
loose  and  disorderly  mob,  who  had  been  chosen  without 
any  special  regard  for  the  requirements  of  an  emigrant's 
life,  and  with  them  were  several  of  Smith's  old  opponents, 
previously  returned  to  England. 

Smith,  seeing  that  no  lawful  authority  had  come  to  re 
place  his  own,  determined  to  maintain  himself  in  his  post. 
The  newcomers  raised  unlooked-for  difficulties.  They  not 


THE   SETTLEMENT    OF  JAMESTOWN        267 

only  showed  great  disinclination  to  submit  to  his  orders, 
but  they  set  at  naught  all  the  ordinary  rules  of  prudence  in 
their  intercourse  with  the  natives.  The  Indians  came  to 
Smith  with  complaints  that  his  men  were  stealing  their 
corn  and  robbing  their  gardens.  He  was  doing  his  best 
to  introduce  order  again  among  these  miserable  men,  when 
an  accident  deprived  the  colony  of  his  services.  Some  gun 
powder  in  a  boat,  in  which  he  was,  accidentally  took  fire, 
and  the  wounds  which  he  received  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  fulfil  the  active  duties  of  his  office.  He  accordingly 
determined  to  return  to  England,  leaving  the  unruly  crowd 
of  settlers  to  discover,  by  a  bitter  experience,  the  value  of 
his  energy  and  prudence.  They  were  not  long  in  learn 
ing  the  extent  of  their  capacity  for  self-government.  They 
utterly  refused  to  submit  to  Percy,  who  had  been  elected 
by  the  council  as  Smith's  successor.  As  soon  as  the  natives 
heard  that  Smith  was  gone,  they  attacked  the  settlement 
and  met  with  but  little  resistance.  The  settlers  themselves 
wasted  the  provisions  which  should  have  served  for  their 
subsistence  during  the  winter.  There  was  no  recognized 
authority,  and  every  man  followed  his  own  inclination. 
When  Smith  sailed  for  England,  the  colony  consisted  of 
four  hundred  and  ninety  men.  Within  six  months,  a  mis 
erable  remnant  of  sixty  persons  was  supporting  itself  upon 
roots  and  berries. 

In  this  extremity,  Gates  arrived,  having  contrived  to 
escape  in  a  pinnace  from  the  Bermudas.  On  May  23,  1610, 
he  landed  at  Jamestown.  He  had  expected  to  find  a 
flourishing  colony,  where  he  could  obtain  support  for  the 
hundred  and  fifty  shipwrecked  settlers  who  accompanied 
him.  He  found  famine  staring  him  in  the  face.  The  corn 
which  had  been  sown  would  not  be  ready  for  harvest  for 
months,  and  the  Indians  refused  to  bargain  with  their 
oppressors.  When  he  had  landed  all  his  little  store,  he 


268        THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   JAMESTOWN 

found  that  there  would  only  be  enough  to  support  life  for 
sixteen  days.  It  was,  therefore,  determined,  by  common 
consent,  to  forsake  the  country,  as  the  only  means  to  avoid 
starvation,  and  to  make  for  Newfoundland,  where  the  fu 
gitives  hoped  to  obtain  a  passage  to  England  in  the  vessels 
which  were  engaged  in  fishing. 

On  June  7,  the  remnants  of  the  once  prosperous  colony 
quitted  the  spot  which  had  been  for  three  years  the  centre 
of  their  hopes,  and  dropped  down  the  river.  Before,  how 
ever,  they  had  got  out  of  the  Chesapeake,  they  were  aston 
ished  by  the  sight  of  a  boat  coming  up  to  meet  them.  The 
boat  proved  to  belong  to  Lord  de  la  Warr's  squadron, 
which  had  arrived  from  England  in  time  to  save  the  set 
tlement  from  ruin. 

The  arrival  of  Lord  de  la  Warr  was  the  turning  point 
in  the  early  history  of  Virginia.  He  brought  provisions 
upon  which  the  settlers  could  subsist  for  a  year,  and  by 
his  authority  he  was  able  to  curb  the  violence  of  the  fac 
tions  which  had  been  with  difficulty  kept  down  even  by  the 
strong  hand  of  Smith.  Peace  was  restored  with  the  Indians, 
and  the  colonists  willingly  obeyed  the  Governor's  direc 
tions. 

He  had  not  been  long  in  Virginia  before  ill-health  com 
pelled  him  to  return.  After  a  short  interval,  he  was  suc 
ceeded  by  Sir  Thomas  Dale.  Dale  introduced  a  code  of 
martial  law.  This  code  was  unjustifiably  severe,  but  even 
that  was  better  than  the  anarchy  which  threatened  to  break 
out  again  on  Lord  de  la  Warr's  departure.  A  still  more 
advantageous  change  was  brought  about  under  his  govern 
ment.  Hitherto,  the  land  had  been  cultivated  for  the  good 
of  the  whole  colony,  and  it  had  been  found  difficult  to  make 
men  work  heartily  who  had  no  individual  interest  in  their 
labours.  Dale  assigned  three  acres  of  land  to  each  settler. 
The  immediate  results  of  this  innovation  were  manifest. 


THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   JAMESTOWN        269 

The  improvement  was  still  more  decided  when  Gates,  who 
had  been  sent  back  to  England,  returned  as  Governor  in 
August,  1611,  with  considerable  supplies,  of  which  the 
most  valuable  part  consisted  of  large  numbers  of  cattle. 
From  that  time  the  difficulties  which  had  impeded  the  for 
mation  of  the  settlement  were  heard  of  no  more. 


FORT  DU  QUESNE 

E.   SARGENT 

FORT  DU  QUESNE  was  situated  on  the  east  side  of 
the  Monongahela,  on  the  tongue  of  land  formed  by 
the  junction  of  that  stream  with  the  Alleghany.  Though 
full  of  faults  in  its  original  construction,  and  small,  it  was 
built  with  immense  labour,  and  it  had  "  a  great  deal  of 
very  strong  works  collected  into  very  little  room."  By  the 
doubtful  evidences  which  we  possess,  its  shape  would  seem 
to  have  been  a  parallelogram,  its  four  sides  facing  very 
nearly  to  the  points  of  the  compass,  but  a  bastion  at  each 
corner  gave  it  a  polygonal  appearance.  Its  longest  sides 
were  fifty  yards;  its  shorter,  forty. 

These  were  made  of  very  large  squared  logs,  to  the 
height  of  twelve  feet,  and  compactly  filled  in  with  earth  to 
the  depth  of  eight;  thus  leaving  about  four  feet  of  ram 
parts  to  shelter  the  plateau.  The  sides  of  the  fort  near 
est  the  rivers  being  comparatively  protected  by  nature,  were 
not  furnished  with  bastions;  but  a  strong  stockade,  twelve 
feet  high,  and  made  of  logs  a  foot  in  diameter  driven  pile- 
wise  into  the  ground,  extended  from  bastion  to  bastion  and 
completely  enclosed  the  area.  This  stockade  was  ingen 
iously  wattled  cross-wise  with  poles,  after  the  fashion  of 
basket-work,  and  loopholes,  slanting  downwards,  were  cut 
through  to  enable  the  men  to  fire.  At  the  distance  of 
some  four  rods  from  these  walls,  as  they  may  be  called,  a 
shallow  ditch  was  dug  completely  environing  them  and  pro 
tected  by  a  second  stockade,  seven  feet  high,  built  in  a 
manner  similar  to  the  first,  and  solidly  embanked  with 
earth. 

270 


FORT   DU   QUESNE  271 

Two  gates  opened  into  the  fort;  the  western  from  the 
waterside,  and  the  eastern,  about  ten  feet  wide,  from  the 
land.  Immediately  between  the  eastern  postions  was  sunken 
a  deep  well,  whose  diameter  was  the  width  of  the  gate 
way,  and  over  which  a  drawbridge  was  placed  that  at  night, 
or  in  time  of  danger,  was  drawn  up  with  chain  and  levers; 
and  these  actually  formed  the  gate.  Both  portals  were 
strongly  framed  of  squared  logs;  but  the  eastern  gate 
opened  on  hinges,  and  had  a  wicket  cut  in  it  for  ordinary- 
use.  Within  the  fort,  and  hard  by  the  eastern  gate,  were 
placed  the  magazine  and  kitchen;  the  former,  twenty  feet 
wide  by  forty  long,  and  but  five  feet  high,  was  built  of 
heavy  hewed  timber,  deeply  sunk  into  the  ground  to  almost 
its  full  altitude,  and  its  roof  plastered  with  a  coating  of 
potter's  clay  nearly  four  feet  in  thickness.  By  this  means,  it 
was  comparatively  secure  from  any  missile  save  bombs  or 
hot-shot  thrown  from  the  brow  of  the  adjacent  hills.  It 
is  to  these  precautions  that  we  are  indebted  at  this  day  for 
the  solitary  vestige  of  Old  Fort  Du  Quesne  that  remains 
to  us.  Some  workmen,  in  the  summer  of  1854 — Just  about 
a  century  after  Stobo  wrote — being  employed  in  making 
excavations  for  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Company, 
brought  to  light  this  building,  which  alone,  of  all  its  com 
rades,  had,  from  its  peculiar  formation,  escaped  as  well  the 
destroying  hand  of  Time  as  the  torch  of  its  baffled  creator, 
when,  in  1758,  he  forever  abandoned  his  beloved  fortress 
and  fled  before  the  approach  of  Forbes.  Leaves,  dirt,  and 
rubbish  must  soon  have  accumulated  above  its  neglected 
roof.  The  storms  of  winter  came,  and  the  freshets  of 
the  spring;  and  ere  long  not  a  human  being  had  reason  to 
believe  that  beneath  his  feet  stood,  intact  almost  as  on  the 
day  it  was  built,  the  Old  French  Magazine. 

Beside  this,  however,  there  were  other  buildings  within 
the  walls;  heavy  and  substantial  log-houses,  such  as  the 


272  FORT   DU   QUESNE 

wants  of  the  garrison  might  require.  Two  were  store 
houses  or  magazines;  two  others  were  barracks;  a  seventh 
was  the  commandant's  residence;  and  lesser  erections  served 
for  a  guard-house  and  a  prison.  The  backs  of  these  were 
at  but  a  yard's  distance  from  the  walls,  which  they  aided 
greatly  to  strengthen;  all  the  intervening  space  being  filled 
in  with  earth.  Their  roofs,  covered  with  boards  sawed  by 
hand  upon  the  spot,  were  level  at  the  eaves  with  the  ram 
parts;  nor  were  there  any  pickets  or  sharpened  palisades 
crowning  the  walls.  Had  Braddock  reached  this  place,  it 
was  St.  Clair's  proposition  to  erect  a  battery  on  the  brow 
of  the  opposite  hill,  which  perfectly  commanded  the  fort, 
and  thence,  with  hot-shot,  to  set  these  buildings  on  fire, 
and  so  subdue  the  post.  All  their  artillery  consisted  of  eight 
cannon;  one-half  of  them  three-  and  the  remainer  four- 
pounders;  five  of  which  were  mounted  on  the  northwestern 
bastion  defending  the  powder-magazine.  When  Stobo 
wrote,  M.  de  Contrecceur  and  a  guard  of  five  officers  and 
forty  men  were  all  who  lodged  in  the  fort;  bark  cabins 
were  erected  around  it  for  the  rest  of  the  garrison.  Every 
preparation  was  made  for  their  permanent  comfort;  and 
already  kitchen-gardens  upon  the  Alleghany  and  mills  upon 
the  Monongahela,  and  a  vast  cornfield,  extending  for  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  up  either  stream,  furnished  promise  of 
future  subsistence.  The  woods  all  around  had  been  cut 
down,  and  hardly  a  stump  remained  within  musket-shot  to 
shelter  the  approach  of  a  foe. 

Although  the  Canadian  militia  returning  to  their  homes 
left  but  a  small  garrison  of  regulars  to  hold  the  fort 
towards  the  end  of  the  summer  of  1754,  yet,  if  any  reli 
ance  may  be  placed  upon  the  reports  which  reached  the 
English  provinces,  there  was  still  a  plenty  of  aid  within 
call;  no  less  than  2200  fresh  troops  being  sent  thitherward 
from  Quebec  during  that  season;  and  on  the  25th  of  Sep- 


FORT   DU   QUESNE  273 

tember  300  Caghnawagas,  or  French  Indians,  and  a  convoy 
of  provisions  from  Quebec  arrived.  Five  days  before,  when 
Lieutenant  Lyon  with  a  flag  of  truce  from  Virginia  and  a 
fruitless  proposition  to  exchange  La  Force  (the  officer  cap 
tured  at  Tumonville's  defeat)  for  Captain  Stobo,  visited 
Du  Quesne,  he  found  but  one  hundred  men  in  the  fort. 
But  despite  their  scanty  numbers,  they  were  pursuing  a 
most  dangerous  policy  towards  English  interests  by  assid 
uously  tempting  the  Indians  of  the  Six  Nations  in  the  vicin 
ity  to  forswear  their  ancient  alliances;  and  sending  their 
Caghnawagas  among  the  Shawanoes  and  other  western 
tribes  to  bring  them  into  the  interests  of  Canada.  A  num 
ber  of  savages  had  frequented  the  post  ever  since  the  cap 
ture  of  Fort  Necessity,  and  among  these  numerous  and 
valuable  presents  were  distributed.  Through  the  medium 
of  the  Delaware,  or  perhaps  more  directly  from  Quebec  and 
France,  through  the  intercession  of  the  spy  Hennessey,  they 
were  in  November  advised  of  the  expected  reinforcements 
from  England ;  and  not  comprehending  a  six  months'  delay 
in  the  enterprise,  the  French  had  hastened  at  once  to  rein 
force  Fort  Du  Quesne  with  eight  additional  cannon,  and 
a  plenty  of  stores.  The  garrison  was  also  increased  to 
noo  men;  and  nearly  400  Indians,  Adirondacks,  Caghna 
wagas,  and  Ottawas,  were  sent  thither  from  the  confines 
of  New  France. 

Having  settled  upon  his  course,  on  the  8th  of  July, 
Braddock,  following  the  Valley  of  Long  Run,  marched 
southwestwardly  eight  miles  towards  the  Monongahela,  and 
pitched  his  camp  for  the  night  upon  an  inviting  declivity 
between  that  stream  and  another  rivulet  called  Crooked 
Run,  some  two  miles  from  the  river.  He  was  now  within 
two  easy  marches  of  the  Ohio,  to  gain  which  he  looked  for 
no  other  opposition  than  what  he  might  encounter  in  the 
morrow's  fordings;  and  so  far  as  we  can  discover,  there 


274  FORT   DU   QUESNE 

were  in   his  ranks  but  two  individuals  at  all   diffident  of 
success. 

What  precautionary  steps  his  education  and  capacity 
could  suggest  were  here  taken  by  Braddock.  Before  three 
o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  Qth,  Gage  was  sent  forth 
with  a  chosen  band  to  secure  both  crossings  of  the  river, 
and  to  hold  the  further  shore  of  the  second  ford  till  the 
rest  of  the  army  should  come  up.  At  four,  St.  Clair,  with 
a  working-party,  followed  to  make  the  roads.  At  six  A.  M. 
the  General  set  out,  and  advantageously  posted  about 
400  men  upon  the  adjacent  heights,  and  made,  with  all  the 
waggons  and  baggage,  the  first  crossing  of  the  Monongahela. 
Marching  thence  in  order  of  battle  towards  the  second 
ford,  he  received  intelligence  that  Gage  had  occupied  the 
shore  according  to  orders,  and  that  the  route  was  clear. 
The  only  enemy  he  had  seen  was  a  score  of  savages,  who 
fled  without  awaiting  his  approach.  By  eleven  o'clock, 
the  army  reached  the  second  ford;  but  it  was  not  until 
after  one  that  the  declivities  of  the  banks  were  made  ready 
for  the  artillery  and  waggons,  when  the  whole  array,  by  a 
little  before  two  o'clock,  was  safely  passed  over.  Not 
doubting  that  from  some  point  on  the  stream  the  enemy's 
scouts  were  observing  his  operations,  Braddock  was  re 
solved  to  strongly  impress  them  with  the  numbers  and 
condition  of  his  forces;  and  accordingly  the  troops  were 
ordered  to  appear  as  for  a  dress-parade.  In  after  life, 
Washington  was  accustomed  to  observe  that  he  had  never 
seen  elsewhere  so  beautiful  a  sight  as  was  exhibited  during 
this  passage  of  the  Monongahela.  Every  man  was  attired 
in  his  best  uniform;  the  burnished  arms  shone  bright  as 
silver  in  the  glistening  rays  of  the  noonday  sun,  as,  with 
colours  waving  proudly  above  their  heads,  and  amid  in 
spiring  bursts  of  martial  music,  the  steady  files,  with  dis 
ciplined  precision,  and  glittering  in  scarlet  and  gold,  ad- 


FORT   DU    QUESNE  275 

vanced  to  their  position.  While  the  rear  was  yet  on  the 
other  side,  and  the  van  was  falling  into  its  ordained  course, 
the  bulk  of  the  army  was  drawn  up  in  battle  array  on  the 
western  shore,  hard  by  the  spot  where  one  Frazier,  a 
German  blacksmith  in  the  interest  of  the  English,  had 
lately  had  his  home.  Two  or  three  hundred  yards  above 
the  spot  where  it  now  stood  was  the  mouth  of  Turtle 
Creek  (the  Tulpewi  Sipu  of  the  Lenape),  which,  flowing 
in  a  southwestwardly  course  to  the  Monongahela  that  here 
has  a  northwestwardly  direction,  embraces,  in  an  obtuse 
angle  of  about  125°,  the  very  spot  where  the  brunt  of  the 
battle  was  to  be  borne.  The  scene  is  familiar  to  tourists, 
being,  as  the  crow  flies,  but  eight  miles  from  Pittsburg, 
and  scarce  twelve  by  the  course  of  the  river.  For  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  below  the  entrance  of  the  creek,  the 
Monongahela  was  unusually  shallow,  forming  a  gentle 
rapid  or  ripple,  and  easily  fordable  at  almost  any  point. 
Its  common  level  is  from  three  to  four  hundred  feet  below 
that  of  the  surrounding  country;  and  along  its  upper  banks, 
at  the  second  crossing,  stretches  a  fertile  bottom  of  a  rich, 
pebbled  mould,  about  a  fourth  of  a  mile  in  width,  and 
twenty  feet  above  low-water  mark.  At  this  time  it  was 
covered  by  a  fair,  open  walnut-wood,  uncumbered  with 
bush  or  undergrowth. 

On  the  evening  of  the  8th  of  July,  the  ground  had  been 
carefully  reconnoitred  and  the  proper  place  for  the  action 
selected.  The  intention  was  to  dispute  as  long  as  possible 
the  passage  of  the  second  ford,  and  then  to  fall  back  upon 
the  ravines.  But  long  ere  they  reached  the  scene,  the  swell 
of  military  music  and  the  crash  of  falling  trees,  apprised  them 
that  the  foe  had  already  crossed  the  river,  and  that  his 
pioneers  were  advanced  into  the  woodlands.  Quickening 
their  pace  into  a  run,  they  managed  to  reach  the  broken 
ground  just  as  the  van  of  the  English  came  in  sight. 


276  FORT   DU   QUESNE 

The  French  (some  of  whom,  according  to  Garneau,  were 
mounted),  held  the  centre  of  the  semi-circular  disposition 
so  instantly  assumed;  and  a  tremendous  fire  was  at  once 
opened  on  the  English. 

The  officers  sought  to  collect  their  men  together  and 
lead  them  on  in  platoons.  Nothing  could  avail.  On  every 
hand  the  officers,  distinguished  by  their  horses  and  their 
uniforms,  were  the  constant  mark  of  hostile  rifles;  and  it 
was  soon  as  impossible  to  find  men  to  give  orders  as  it  was 
to  have  them  obeyed.  In  a  narrow  road,  twelve  feet  wide, 
shut  upon  either  side  and  overpent  by  the  primeval  forest, 
were  crowded  together  the  panic-stricken  wretches,  hastily 
loading  and  reloading,  and  blindly  discharging  their  guns 
in  the  air,  as  though  they  suspected  their  mysterious  mur 
derers  were  sheltered  in  the  boughs  above  their  heads;  while 
all  around,  removed  from  sight,  but  making  day  hideous 
with  their  war-whoops  and  savage  cries,  lay  ensconced  a  host 
insatiate  for  blood.  Foaming  with  rage  and  indignation, 
Braddock  flew  from  rank  to  rank,  with  his  own  hands  en 
deavouring  to  force  his  men  into  position.  Four  horses 
were  shot  under  him,  but  mounting  a  fifth,  he  still  strained 
every  nerve  to  retrieve  the  ebbing  fortunes  of  the  day. 

At  last,  when  every  aide  but  Washington  was  struck 
down;  when  the  lives  of  the  vast  majority  of  the  officers 
had  been  sacrificed  with  a  reckless  intrepidity,  a  sublime 
self-devotion  that  surpasses  the  power  of  language  to  ex 
press  ;  when  scarce  a  third  part  of  the  whole  army  remained 
unscathed,  and  these  incapable  of  aught  save  remaining  to 
die  or  till  the  word  to  retire  was  given;  at  last  Braddock 
abandoned  all  hope  of  victory;  and,  with  a  mien  undaunted 
as  in  his  proudest  hour,  ordered  the  drums  to  sound  a  re 
treat.  The  instant  their  faces  were  turned,  the  poor  reg 
ulars  lost  every  trace  of  the  sustaining  power  of  custom; 


FORT   DU   QUESNE  277 

and  the  retreat  became  a  headlong  flight.  "  Despite  of  all 
the  efforts  of  the  officers  to  the  contrary,  they  ran,"  says 
Washington,  "  as  sheep  pursued  by  dogs,  and  it  was  im 
possible  to  rally  them." 

Beneath  a  large  tree  standing  between  the  heads  of  the 
northernmost  ravines,  and  while  in  the  act  of  giving  an 
order,  Braddock  received  a  mortal  wound;  the  ball  passing 
through  his  right  arm  into  the  lungs.  Falling  from  his 
horse,  he  lay  helpless  on  the  ground,  surrounded  by  the 
dead,  abandoned  by  the  living. 

So  terminated  the  bloody  battle  of  the  Monongahela;  a 
scene  of  carnage  which  has  been  truly  described  as  unexam 
pled  in  the  annals  of  modern  warfare.  Of  the  1460  souls, 
officers  and  privates,  who  went  into  the  combat,  456  were 
slain  outright,  and  421  were  wounded;  making  a  total  of 
877  men.  Of  89  commissioned  officers,  63  were  killed 
or  wounded;  not  a  solitary  field-officer  escaping  unhurt. 

Whether  we  regard  the  cause,  the  conduct,  or  the  con 
sequences  of  this  battle,  the  reflections  it  gives  rise  to  are 
alike  valuable  and  impressive.  It  brought  together  prac 
tically  for  the  first  time  in  our  history  the  disciplined  reg 
ular  of  Europe  and  the  riflemen  of  America;  and  it  taught 
the  lesson  to  the  latter  that  in  his  own  forests  he  was  the 
superior  man.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  contest  in  whose 
revolving  years  the  colonies  became  a  school  of  arms,  and 
a  martial  spirit  of  the  people  was  fostered  and  trained  till 
they  had  attained  that  confidence  which  naught  but  custom 
can  afford.  Had  Braddock  been  successful,  the  great  prov 
ince  of  Pennsylvania,  and  probably  those  of  New  Jersey, 
Maryland,  and  New  York,  freed  from  danger,  would  have 
continued  in  their  original  ignorance  and  aversion  of  mili 
tary  science.  His  failure  left  their  frontiers  open  to  the 
enemy,  and  the  spirit  of  self-preservation  soon  compelled 


278  FORT   DU    QUESNE 

them  to  welcome  the  weapons  from  which  they  had  once  re 
coiled  with  loathing.  It  was  there  and  then  that  Morgan 
and  Mercer,  Gates  and  Washington,  first  stood  side  by 
side  in  marshalled  array;  and  in  that  day's  dark  torrent  of 
blood  was  tempered  the  steel  which  was  to  sever  the  col 
onies  from  the  parent-stem. 


ST.  JOHN'S   RIVER 

GEORGE   R.   FAIRBANKS 

THE  account  given  by  Laudonniere,  himself,  the  leader 
of  the  Huguenots,  by  whom  Fort  Caroline  was  con 
structed,  is  as  follows:  After  speaking  of  his  arrival  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  which  had  been  named  the  River 
May  by  Ribault,  who  had  entered  it  on  the  first  day  of 
May,  1562,  and  had  therefore  given  it  that  name,  he  says, 
"  Departing  from  thence,  I  had  not  sailed  three  leagues  up 
the  river,  still  being  followed  by  the  Indians,  crying  still, 
*  amy,  amy,J  that  is  to  say,  friend,  but  I  discovered  an 
hill  of  meane  height,  neare  which  I  went  on  land,  harde 
by  the  fieldes  that  were  sowed  with  mil,  at  one  corner 
whereof  there  was  an  house,  built  for  their  lodgings  which 
keep  and  garde  the  mil.  .  .  . 

".  .  .  Now  was  I  determined  to  searche  out  the  qual 
ities  of  the  hill.  Therefore  I  went  right  to  the  toppe  there 
of;  where  we  found  nothing  else  but  cedars,  palms,  and 
bay  trees  of  so  sovereign  odor  that  Balme  smelleth  not  more 
sweetly.  The  trees  were  environed  around  about  with 
vines  bearing  grapes,  in  such  quantities  that  the  number 
would  suffice  to  make  the  place  habitable.  Besides  the  fer- 
tilitie  of  the  soyle  for  vines,  one  may  see  mesquine  wreathed 
about  the  trees  in  great  quantities.  Touching  the  pleasure 
of  the  place,  the  sea  may  be  seen  plain  enough  from  it;  and 
more  than  six  great  leagues  off,  towards  the  River  Belle,  a 
man  may  behold  the  meadows,  divided  asunder  into  isles 
and  islets,  enterlacing  one  another.  Briefly,  the  place  is  so 
pleasant,  that  those  which  are  melancholicke,  would  be  in- 
forced  to  change  their  humour.  .  .  . 

279 


280  ST.   JOHN'S   RIVER 

"  Our  fort  was  built  in  form  of  a  triangle;  the  side 
towards  the  west,  which  was  toward  the  land,  was  inclosed 
with  a  little  trench  and  raised  with  turf  made  in  the  form 
of  a  battlement,  nine  feet  high;  the  other  side,  which  was 
towards  the  river,  was  inclosed  with  a  palisade  of  planks 
of  timber,  after  the  manner  that  Gabions  are  made;  on  the 
south  line,  there  was  a  kind  of  bastion,  within  which  I 
caused  an  house  for  the  munition  to  be  made.  It  was  all 
builded  with  fagots  and  sand,  saving  about  two  or  three 
foote  high,  with  turfes  whereof  the  battlements  were  made. 

"  In  the  middest,  I  caused  a  great  court  to  be  made  of 
eighteen  paces  long,  and  the  same  in  breadth.  In  the 
middest  whereof,  on  the  one  side,  drawing  towards  the 
south,  I  builded  a  corps  de  garde  and  an  house  on  the 
other  side  towards  the  north.  .  .  .  One  of  the  sides 
that  inclosed  my  court,  which  I  made  very  faire  and  large, 
reached  into  the  grange  of  my  munitions;  and  on  the  other 
side,  towards  the  river,  was  mine  own  lodgings,  round 
which  were  galleries  all  covered.  The  principal  doore  of 
my  lodging  was  in  the  middest  of  the  great  place,  and  the 
other  was  towards  the  river.  A  good  distance  from  the 
fort  I  built  an  oven." 

Jacob  Le  Moyne,  or  Jacques  Morgues,  as  he  is  some 
times  called,  accompanied  the  expedition,  and  his  Brevis 
Narratio  contains  two  plates,  representing  the  commence 
ment  of  the  construction  of  Fort  Caroline,  and  its  appear 
ance  when  completed.  The  latter  represents  a  much  more 
finished  fortification  than  could  possibly  have  been  con 
structed,  but  may  be  taken  as  a  correct  outline,  I  presume, 
of  its  general  appearance. 

Barcia,  in  his  account  of  its  capture,  describes  neither 
its  shape  nor  appearance,  but  mentions  the  parapet  nine 
feet  high,  and  the  munition-house  and  store-house. 

From  the  account  of  Laudonniere  and  Le  Moyne,  it  was 


ST.   JOHN'S   RIVER  281 

situated  near  the  river,  on  the  slope  or  nearly  at  the  foot 
of  a  hill.  Barcia  speaks  of  its  being  behind  a  hill,  and  of 
descending  towards  it.  The  clerical-carpenter,  Challeux, 
speaks  of  being  able,  after  his  escape,  to  look  down  from  the 
hill  he  was  on,  into  the  court  of  the  fort  itself,  and  seeing 
the  massacre  of  the  French.  As  he  was  flying  from  the 
port  towards  the  sea,  and  along  the  river,  and  as  the  Span 
iards  came  from  a  southeast  direction,  the  fort  must  have 
been  on  the  westerly  side  of  a  hill,  near  the  river. 

The  distance  is  spoken  of  as  less  than  three  leagues  by 
Laudonniere.  Hawkins  and  Ribault  say  the  fort  was  not 
visible  from  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  is  also  incidentally 
spoken  of  in  Barcia  as  being  two  leagues  from  the  bar.  Le 
Challeux,  in  the  narrative  of  his  escape,  speaks  of  the  dis 
tance  as  being  about  two  leagues.  In  the  account  given 
of  the  expedition  of  De  Gourgues,  it  is  said  to  be,  in  gen 
eral  terms,  about  one  or  two  leagues  above  the  forts  after 
wards  constructed  on  each  side  of  the  mouth  of  the  river; 
and  it  is  also  mentioned  in  De  Gourgues,  that  the  fort  was 
at  the  foot  of  a  hill,  near  the  water,  and  could  be  over 
looked  from  the  hill.  The  distance  from  the  mouth  of  the 
river,  and  the  nature  of  the  ground  where  the  fort  was 
built,  are  thus  made  sufficiently  definite  to  enable  us  to 
seek  a  location  which  shall  fulfil  both  these  conditions.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  remark,  that  there  can  be  no  ques 
tion  but  that  the  fort  was  located  on  the  south  or  easterly 
side  of  the  river,  as  the  Spaniards  marched  by  land  from 
St.  Augustine,  in  a  northwesterly  direction  to  Fort  Caro 
line. 

The  River  St.  John's  is  one  of  the  largest  rivers,  in  point 
of  width,  to  be  found  in  America,  and  is  more  like  an  arm 
of  the  sea  than  a  river;  from  its  mouth  for  a  distance  of 
fifteen  miles,  it  is  spread  over  extensive  marshes,  and  there 
are  few  points  where  the  channel  touches  the  banks  of  the 


282  ST.   JOHN'S   RIVER 

river.  At  its  mouth  it  is  comparatively  narrow,  but  imme 
diately  extends  itself  over  widespread  marshes;  and  the 
first  headland  or  shore  which  is  washed  by  the  channel  is 
a  place  known  as  St.  John's  Bluff.  Here  the  river  runs 
closely  along  the  shore,  making  a  bold,  deep  channel  close 
to  the  bank.  The  land  rises  abruptly  on  one  side,  into  a 
hill  of  moderate  height,  covered  with  a  dense  growth  of 
pine,  cedar,  etc.  This  hill  gently  slopes  to  the  banks  of 
the  river,  and  runs  off  to  the  southwest,  where,  at  the  dis 
tance  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  a  creek  discharges  itself  into 
the  river,  at  a  place  called  the  Shipyard  from  time  imme 
morial. 

I  am  not  aware  that  any  remains  of  Fort  Caroline,  or 
any  old  remains  of  a  fortress,  have  ever  been  discovered 
here;  but  it  must  be  recollected  that  this  fort  was  con 
structed  of  sand  and  pine  trees,  and  that  three  hundred 
years  have  passed  away,  with  their  storms  and  tempests, 
their  rains  and  destructive  influences — a  period  sufficient  to 
have  destroyed  a  work  of  much  more  durable  character  than 
sandy  entrenchments  and  green  pine  stakes  and  timbers. 
Moreover,  it  is  highly  probable,  judging  from  present  ap 
pearances,  that  the  constant  abrasion  of  the  banks  still  go 
ing  on  has  long  since  worn  away  the  narrow  spot  where 
stood  Fort  Caroline.  It  is  also  to  be  remarked,  that  as  there 
is  no  other  hill,  or  highland,  or  place  where  a  fort  could 
have  been  built  between  St.  John's  Bluff  and  the  mouth 
of  the  river,  so  it  is  also  the  fact,  that  there  is  no  point 
on  the  south  side  of  the  river  where  the  channel  touches 
high  land,  for  a  distance  by  water  of  eight  or  ten  miles 
above  St.  John's  Bluff. 

The  evidence  in  favour  of  the  location  of  Fort  Caro 
line  at  St.  John's  Bluff  is,  I  think,  conclusive  and  irresist 
ible,  and  accords  in  all  points  with  the  descriptions  given 
as  to  distance,  topography,  and  points  of  view. 


ST.   JOHN'S   RIVER  283 

It  is  within  the  memory  of  persons  now  living,  that  a 
considerable  orange  grove  and  somewhat  extensive  build 
ings,  which  existed  at  this  place,  then  called  St.  Vicente, 
have  been  washed  into  the  river,  leaving  at  this  day  no 
vestiges  of  their  existence.  It  has  been  occupied  as  a 
Spanish  fort  within  fifty  years;  yet  so  rapid  has  been  the 
work  of  time  and  the  elements,  that  no  remains  of  such 
occupation  are  now  to  be  seen. 

The  narratives  all  speak  of  the  distance  from  the  mouth 
of  the  river  as  about  two  leagues;  and  in  speaking  of  so 
short  a  distance  the  probability  of  exactness  is  much  greater 
than  when  dealing  with  longer  distances. 

As  to  the  spot  itself,  it  presents  all  the  natural  features 
mentioned  by  Laudonniere;  and  it  requires  but  a  small  spice 
of  enthusiasm  and  romance  that  it  be  recognized  as  a 
"  goodlie  and  pleasante  spotte,"  by  those  who  might  like 
the  abundance  of  the  wild  grapes  and  the  view  of  the  dis 
tant  salt  meadows,  with  their  "  isles  and  islets,  so  pleas-* 
ante  that  those  which  are  melancholicke  would  be  inforced 
to  change  their  humour." 

It  is  but  proper,  however,  to  say,  that  at  a  plantation 
known  as  Newcastle  there  is  a  high  range  of  ground,  and 
upon  this  high  ground  the  appearance  of  an  old  earthwork 
of  quadrangular  form;  but  this  point  is  distant  some  six 
leagues  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  is  flanked  by  a  deep 
bay  or  marsh  to  the  southeast,  and  the  work  is  on  the  top 
of  the  hill  and  not  at  its  foot,  is  quarangular,  and  is  a 
considerable  distance  from  the  water.  These  earthworks, 
I  am  satisfied,  are  Spanish  or  English  remains  of  a  much 
later  period. 


MONTEREY 
LADY   MARY   HARDY 

T  T  7E  reach  Monterey  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  A  queer 
»  *  tumble-down  Spanish  town  lying  close  along  the 
sea-shore.  One  or  two  fishermen  are  trailing  their  nets  on 
the  face  of  the  water,  and  some  fishing-smacks,  with  their 
brown,  patched  sails,  are  anchored  in  the  bay,  and  are  rocked 
so  gently  by  the  waves  they  seem  to  be  coquetting  with  their 
own  shadows.  Not  much  more  than  a  century  ago  a  host 
of  Spanish  vessels  sailed  into  this  now  lonely  and  deserted 
harbour,  their  colours  flying,  their  decks  crowded  with  sol 
diers,  sailors,  priests,  and  nuns.  Here  they  landed  in  search 
of  a  good  site  whereon  to  found  a  mission  for  their  priestly 
labours.  They  stationed  themselves  on  an  elevated  point 
about  two  miles  from  the  sea ;  there  the  labour  of  love  began. 
They  buit  a  presidio  for  the  soldiers  to  protect  the  fathers 
from  the  native  Indians.  Every  man  who  had  hands  to 
work  devoted  himself  to  the  cause,  and  laboured  till  the 
church  and  mission  buildings  were  completed.  All  that 
part  of  the  country  was  taken  possession  of  in  the  name  of 
the  King  of  Spain,  and  the  work  of  conversion  began.  The 
ceremony  was  performed  with  a  blare  of  trumpets,  beating 
of  drums,  and  salvos  of  artillery,  calling  out  an  army  of 
echoes  from  the  surrounding  hills  and  mountains.  The  poor 
Indians  were  at  first  dazed  with  the  display  of  tawdry  mag 
nificence  and  frightened  at  the  thundering  sounds  which 
shook  the  air  and  seemed  to  make  the  solid  earth  tremble 
beneath  their  feet;  but  by  degrees  they  approached,  and 
then  learned  that  this  wonderful  expedition  was  organized 

284 


MONTEREY  285 

expressly  for  their  benefit.  Peace  in  this  world  and  glory 
in  the  next  was  freely  promised  them.  The  gates  of  Para 
dise  were  opened  before  them;  they  had  nothing  to  do  but 
to  walk  in  and  take  possession.  Scores  were  converted  every 
'day ;  they  bowed  down  before  the  altar.  The  acolytes  swung 
the  incense,  the  fathers  preached  and  chanted  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  the  nuns,  from  behind  their  grated  gallery,  lifted 
their  songs  of  adoration  and  praise,  and  the  poor  heathen 
souls  were  caught  up  in  the  great  mystery  and  won  to  God. 

From  Mexico  and  Spain  settlers  soon  came  flocking  into 
the  beautiful  valley,  establishing  themselves  upon  the  sea 
shore,  building  dwellings,  grazing  cattle,  and  growing  fruits 
and  flowers,  increasing  and  multiplying  themselves  and  their 
houses  till  the  city  grew  and,  for  a  time,  flourished  in  peace 
and  plenty,  carrying  on  a  thriving  trade  not  only  with  Spain 
and  Mexico,  but  with  the  inhabitants  along  the  coast.  The 
descendants  of  the  first  settlers,  to  a  great  extent,  still  oc 
cupy  the  now  half-deserted,  dilapidated  town.  The  mission 
church,  presidio,  and  other  buildings  appertaining  thereto 
are  on  an  elevated  spot  some  two  miles  distant  from  the 
town  overlooking  the  lovely  and  extensive  Carmel  Valley. 

Only  a  century  ago  the  church  was  filled  with  priests  and 
converts,  the  presidio  with  soldiers,  their  clanking  arms  and 
breastplates  glittering  in  the  sun;  vessels  rode  at  anchor  in 
the  harbour,  and  crowds  of  Dutch  and  Spanish  traders,  with 
their  bales  of  merchandise,  swarmed  upon  the  silver-sanded 
beach  below.  Now  all  is  gone,  like  painted  shadows  fading 
from  the  sunshine. 

The  church,  crowning  the  hilltop  and  dominating  the 
landscape  for  miles  around,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful, 
picturesque,  and  perfect  ruins  upon  the  coast.  Its  exterior 
is  complete,  even  to  the  rusty  bell  which  still  hangs  in  the 
belfry  tower,  and  creaks  with  a  ghostly  clang  when  the  wind 
blows  through;  and  we  are  surprised  to  find  so  much  of 


286  MONTEREY 

the  decorative  masonry  still  intact.  Dilapidated  saints  and 
cherubs,  with  broken  trumpets  and  mouldering  wings,  still 
hold  their  places,  while  all  around  is  slowly  but  surely  crum 
bling  to  decay;  and,  though  in  places  you  may  see  the  day 
light  streaming  through  the  roof,  you  can  still  ramble 
through  the  nun's  gallery  and  look  down  upon  the  altar, 
where  the  broken  font  still  clings  to  the  wall. 

On  the  occasion  of  our  visit,  a  small  side  chapel  or  vestry 
was  decorated  with  ivy,  evergreens,  and  paper  flowers,  and 
tin  sconces,  with  the  remains  of  guttering  candles,  were  left 
upon  the  walls.  It  had  evidently  been  used  very  lately — by 
the  villagers,  perhaps,  for  some  festive  gathering.  The  ex 
tensive  range  of  adobe  buildings  which  surround  the  church 
and  were  occupied  by  the  converts  and  day-labourers,  are 
still  in  a  state  of  semi-preservation;  the  roofs  are  gone,  but 
the  walls  are  still  standing.  The  whole  of  these  sacred  pos 
sessions  were  enclosed,  and  entered  then  as  now  by  a  mas 
sive  gateway  at  the  foot  of  the  southern  slope. 

The  town  of  Monterey  is  only  interesting  from  its  asso 
ciation  with  the  past.  It  is  dirty,  it  is  dusty,  it  is  utterly 
void  of  all  modern  improvements.  Streets!  there  are  none 
to  speak  of,  except,  perhaps,  a  row  of  slovenly  shops  which 
have  been  run  up  by  some  demented  genius  the  last  few 
years.  The  old  adobe  houses — and  they  are  all  made  of 
that  species  of  sun-dried  clay — straggle  about  in  the  most 
bewildering  fashion;  it  is  much  easier  to  lose  your  way  than 
to  find  it.  The  people  are  all  strongly  characteristic  of  their 
Spanish  origin;  they  are  a  dark,  swarthy,  lazy-looking  race, 
and  scarcely  seem  to  have  energy  enough  to  keep  themselves 
awake.  Their  houses  have  no  pretension  to  architecture  of 
any  kind;  there  is  no  attempt  at  pretty  cottage-building  or 
rural  decoration;  not  even  a  creeping  plant  is  trained  to 
hide  the  bare  walls.  I  suppose  the  men  do  the  work  some 
times,  but  I  have  seen  them  at  all  hours,  shouldering  the 


MONTEREY  287 

door-posts,  smoking  in  sombre,  majestic  silence,  while  the 
wives  sit  on  stools  beside  them,  generally  with  bright-col 
oured  handkerchiefs  pinned  across  their  breasts,  huge  gold 
hoops  in  their  ears,  and  often  thick  bracelets  on  their  arms. 
In  her  barbaric  love  of  display  the  woman  forms  a  pictur 
esque  and  striking  figure  in  the  shadow  of  her  majestic  lord  ; 
she  is  a  piece  of  brilliant  colouring,  from  the  full,  red  lips, 
rich-hued  complexion,  to  the  sparkling  black  eyes  which  il 
luminate  the  whole. 

In  the  heart  of  the  town  there  is  a  long,  low  range  of 
deserted  buildings,  formerly  occupied  by  the  military;  the 
windows  are  all  broken,  the  worm-eaten  doors  hang,  like 
helpless  cripples,  on  their  hinges,  and  only  the  ghostly  echo 
of  the  wind  goes  wandering  through  the  empty  chambers. 
In  all  quarters  of  the  town  you  may  come  upon  houses  with 
windows  patched  or  broken  and  padlocked  doors,  the  owners 
having  died  or  wandered  away,  and  no  one  (but  the  rats) 
cares  to  take  possession  of  bare  walls.  Nobody  heeds  them ; 
they  are  left  to  natural  decay.  We  passed  some  lonely,  barn- 
like  dwellings,  with  curtained  windows  and  large  gardens 
behind,  where  we  could  see  the  orchard  trees,  and  flowering 
shrubs,  and  white  winter  roses  growing;  these  were  shrouded 
with  almost  monastic  quietude.  We  go  to  the  primitive 
Catholic  Church  on  Sunday,  and  wonder  where  all  the 
beautiful  women  dressed  in  their  picturesque  national  cos 
tume  have  come  from.  They  have  a  proud,  haughty  look 
upon  their  faces,  and  seem  to  resent  our  intrusion.  These, 
we  are  told,  are  the  aristocratic  remains  of  the  ancient  dwell 
ers  in  the  city,  who  form  a  small  exclusive  society  among 
themselves,  and  live  in  the  secluded  barn-like  buildings  above 
alluded  to.  Some  are  in  the  midst  of  the  town;  some  scat 
tered  on  the  outskirts.  The  music  was  good  and  the  service 
reverently  conducted. 

One  clear,  cool  morning  we  pack  a  luncheon  basket  and 


288  MONTEREY 

start  for  a  "cruise  on  wheels."  We  drive  first  past  the 
old  mission  buildings  to  the  Moss  Beach,  lying  along  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  so  called  from  the  peculiar 
mossy  character  and  beauty  of  the  seaweed  it  flings  liberally 
along  the  pure,  white  sand,  for  the  beach  here  is  like  pow 
dered  snow,  and  stretches  far  into  the  wild  inland,  its  still, 
billowy  waves  sparkling  like  diamonds  in  the  sunshine.  A 
few  miles  farther  on,  and  after  a  pleasant  drive  through 
pretty  home  scenery,  we  pass  a  Chinese  fishing  village,  it 
being  a  mere  collection  of  miserable  hovels,  and,  as  an  In 
dian  decorates  his  wigwam  with  scalps,  these  are  hung  inside 
and  out  with  rows  of  dried  and  drying  bodies  of  fish.  The 
beach  is  covered  with  their  bony  skeletons  and  fishy  remains 
in  different  stages  of  decomposition,  and  the  whole  air  is  redo 
lent  with  an  "  ancient  and  fish-like  smell."  We  are  satis 
fied  with  an  outside  view,  and  have  no  desire  to  explore, 
but  drive  on  as  fast  as  we  can  till  we  reach  the  "  pebbly 
beach  of  Pescadero,"  which  is  quite  a  celebrated  spot.  Peo 
ple  come  from  miles  round  to  visit  it,  and  spend  many  hours 
in  hunting  for  moss  agates;  for  these,  and  many  others  of 
a  beautiful  and  rare  description,  may  be  found  in  great  num 
bers  there.  But  apart  from  the  chance  of  finding  these 
treasures,  the  pebbly  beach  is  in  itself  a  great  attraction  for 
its  rarity,  as  all  along  that  portion  of  the  coast  there  is 
only  a  sand  shore. 

Thence  we  drive  on  to  the  lighthouse,  which  stands  on  a 
rocky  eminence  jutting  out  into  the  sea.  We  climbed  the 
narrow  stairway  to  the  top,  and  enjoyed  an  extensive  pano 
ramic  view  of  the  wild  sea  and  wilder  land  surrounding. 
A  lonely,  desolate  place  it  was,  and  to  some  folk  would  be 
maddening  in  its  monotonous  dreariness,  with  the  waves  for 
ever  beating  round  its  rocky  base,  varied  only  by  the  screech 
of  the  sea-birds  or  howling  of  the  wandering  wind.  Yet 
even  in  this  bleak  spot  the  keeper  has  coaxed  flowers  into 


MONTEREY  289 

growing,    and   hollyhocks,   scarlet   geraniums,    dahlias,    and 
other  hardy  plants  are  blooming  round  the  lonely  dwelling. 

We  are  to  take  our  lunch  at  Cypress  Point,  which  we 
reach  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  This  interesting 
and  romantic  spot  which  we  had  selected  for  our  temporary 
festivity  is  an  extensive  grove,  a  miniature  forest  of  cypress 
trees,  covering  and  growing  to  the  very  verge  of  a  lofty  cliff 
which  rises  about  two  hundred  feet  perpendicularly  from  the 
sea.  Their  sombre  forms,  still  and  motionless,  though  a 
stiff  breeze  is  blowing,  turn  oceanwards  like  dark-plumed, 
dusky  sentinels  keeping  watch  and  ward  over  the  rock-bound 
land.  How  many  centuries  have  they  stood  there?  Their 
age  is  beyond  our  ken.  We  feel  the  strange  fascination  of 
this  gloomy  spot.  The  ancient  trees  have  grown  into  strange, 
fantastic  forms.  Some  lie  prone  upon  the  ground,  gnarled 
and  twisted  as  though  they  had  wrestled  in  their  death-agony 
ages  ago,  and  left  their  skeletons  bleaching  in  the  sunshine, 
for,  like  the  whitening  bones  of  a  dead  man,  they  crumble  at 
the  touch.  Some  have  twined  their  stiff  branches  inex 
tricably  together,  apparently  engaged  in  an  everlasting  wres 
tling  match.  Here,  like  a  half-clothed  wizard,  stands  a  skel 
eton  tree  with  fingers  pointing  menacingly  at  its  invisible 
destroyer.  On  every  side  the  weird,  strange  forms  strike 
the  imagination,  and  though  the  sea  is  laughing  and  spar 
kling  in  the  sun,  and  the  soft  wind  fanning  us  with  its  cool, 
invigorating  breath,  the  grim,  silent  congregation  gives  us 
an  uncanny  feeling,  though  we  gather  under  their  shade  and 
eat,  drink,  and  are  merry.  We  shiver  as  we  think  what  a 
spectral  scene  the  cypress  grove  must  be  in  the  moonlight. 


ANNAPOLIS 

ESTHER   SINGLETON 

ANNAPOLIS,  the  capital  of  Maryland,  was  made  the 
-**.  seat  of  government  for  that  colony  in  1688.  Origin 
ally  known  as  Providence,  it  received  its  present  name  in 
1708,  in  honour  of  Queen  Anne.  It  is  beautifully  situated  on 
the  Severn  River,  thirty  miles  south  of  Baltimore  and  forty 
miles  northeast  of  Washington,  commanding  a  fine  view  of 
the  Chesapeake  Bay.  During  the  colonial  period  this  cheer 
ful  little  town  was  one  of  the  most  important  social  centres, 
ranking  with  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Williams- 
burg,  and  Charleston  in  its  display  of  wealth  and  fashion. 
Records  give  abundant  evidence  of  riches  and  pleasure  on 
the  part  of  the  inhabitants.  Social  entertainments — din 
ners,  balls,  parties,  etc.,  were  numerous,  and  card-playing, 
gambling,  horse-racing,  cock-fighting,  and  duelling  were  in 
dulged  in  with  fervour. 

Annapolis  was  one  of  the  earliest  towns  in  this  country  to 
build  a  theatre,  and  a  new  one  was  opened  in  1760  by  the 
famous  Hallam  Company,  where  such  plays  and  farces  as 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  The  Recruiting  Officer,  Venice  Preserved, 
Richard  HI.,  Bold  Stroke  for  a  Wife,  Lethe,  Miss  in  her 
Teens,  Stage  Coach,  Lying  Valet,  and  Damon  and  Phillida, 
delighted  the  bewigged  and  bepainted  beaux  and  belles. 

In  1769-1777,  Eddis,  who  held  an  office  under  the  Brit 
ish  Government  in  Annapolis,  said :  "  The  quick  importation 
of  fashions  from  the  mother  country  is  really  aston 
ishing.  I  am  almost  inclined  to  believe  that  a  new  fashion 
is  adopted  earlier  by  the  polished  and  affluent  American  than 

2(JO 


ANNAPOLIS  291 

by  many  opulent  persons  in  the  great  metropolis;  nor  are  op 
portunities  wanting  to  display  superior  elegance.  We  have 
varied  amusements  and  numerous  parties,  which  afford  to 
the  young,  the  gay,  and  the  ambitious  an  extensive  field  to 
contend  in  the  race  of  vain  and  idle  competition.  In  short, 
very  little  difference  is,  in  reality,  observable  in  the  manners 
of  the  wealthy  colonist  and  the  wealthy  Briton." 

In  1781,  the  Abbe  Rodin,  Count  Rochambeau's  chaplain, 
who  travelled  extensively  through  the  North  and  South, 
wrote:  "There  appears  to  be  more  wealth  and  luxury  in 
Annapolis  than  in  any  other  city  which  I  have  visited  in  this 
country.  The  extravagance  of  the  women  here  surpasses 
that  of  our  own  provinces;  a  French  hairdresser  is  a  man  of 
great  importance;  one  lady  here  pays  to  her  coiffeur  a  salary 
of  a  thousand  crowns.  This  little  city,  which  is  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Severn  River,  contains  several  handsome  edifices.  The 
State  House  is  the  finest  in  the  country;  its  front  is  orna 
mented  with  columns,  and  the  building  surmounted  by  a 
dome.  There  is  also  a  theatre  here.  Annapolis  is  a  place 
of  considerable  shipping.  The  climate  is  the  most  delightful 
in  the  world." 

The  Duke  de  la  Rochefoucauld-Liancourt,  in  his  Voyage 
dans  les  £tats-Unis,  (1795-7),  observed:  "In  a  country 
which  has  belonged  to  England  for  a  long  time,  of  which 
the  most  numerous  and  nearest  connections  are  yet  with 
England,  and  which  carried  on  with  England  almost  all  of 
its  commerce,  the  manners  of  the  people  must  necessarily 
resemble,  in  a  great  degree,  those  of  England.  As  for  Amer 
ican  manners  particularly,  those  relative  to  living  are  the 
same  as  in  the  provinces  of  England.  As  to  the  dress,  the 
English  fashions  are  as  faithfully  copied  as  the  sending  of 
merchandise  from  England  and  the  tradition  of  tailors  and 
mantua-makers  will  admit  of.  The  distribution  of  the  apart 
ments  in  their  houses  is  like  that  of  England,  the  furniture 


292  ANNAPOLIS 

is  English,  the  town  and  carriages  are  either  English,  or  in 
the  English  taste;  and  it  is  no  small  merit  among  the  fash 
ionable  world  to  have  a  coach  newly  arrived  from  London 
and  of  the  newest  fashion." 

Notwithstanding  the  strong  English  flavour  of  society  in 
Annapolis,  the  town  early  caught  the  flames  of  the  Revolu 
tion.  The  passage  of  the  Stamp  Act  was  received  with  the 
greatest  indignation  here  in  March,  1766,  and  three  months 
later  the  Sons  of  Liberty  from  Baltimore,  Kent,  and  Anne 
Arundel  Counties  joyfully  gathered  here  upon  its  repeal. 
Anti-British  sentiment  ran  high  in  this  old  town;  and  in  its 
harbour  an  episode  occurred  in  connection  with  tea  that 
rivals  that  of  the  Boston  Harbour.  The  story  bears  re 
peating. 

On  Saturday,  the  I5th  of  October,  1774,  the  brig  Peggy 
Stewart  arrived  in  Annapolis  from  London.  Among  the 
cargo  were  2320  pounds  of  tea  consigned  to  Thomas  Charles 
Williams  &  Company  of  Annapolis.  On  this  discovery, 
the  citizens  were  summoned  to  a  general  meeting.  It  was 
found  that  Mr.  Anthony  Stewart,  the  proprietor  of  the  ves 
sel,  had  paid  the  duties,  and  the  citizens  then  and  there  de 
termined  to  appoint  a  committee  to  prevent  the  landing  of 
the  "  detestable  plant,"  as  it  was  then  termed.  Some  mem 
bers,  however,  proposed  to  land  the  tea  and  burn  it ;  but  this 
motion  met  with  scorn.  Mr.  Stewart  prepared  and  distrib 
uted  a  hand-bill,  addressed  to  the  "  Gentlemen  of  the  Com 
mittee,  the  citizens  of  Annapolis,  and  the  inhabitants  of 
Anne  Arundel  County,"  in  which  he  exonerated  himself  to 
the  best  of  his  ability.  A  few  days  later,  he  was  forced  to 
apologize  and  acknowledge  himself  in  the  wrong.  Eddis, 
who  was  an  eye-witness,  says:  "  Mr.  Stewart  was  induced 
by  the  advice  of  Charles  Carroll  of  Carrollton,  Esquire,  and 
from  an  anxious  desire  to  preserve  the  public  tranquillity,  as 
well  as  to  secure  his  own  personal  safety,  to  propose  setting 


ANNAPOLIS  293 

fire  himself  to  the  vessel,  which  being  immediately  assented 
to,  he  instantly  repaired  on  board,  accompanied  by  several 
gentlemen  who  thought  it  necessary  to  attend  him,  and  hav 
ing  directed  her  to  be  run  aground,  near  the  wind-mill  point, 
he  made  a  sacrifice  of  his  valuable  property,  and  in  a  few 
hours  the  brig,  with  her  sails,  cordage  and  every  appurte 
nance,  was  effectually  burnt." 

McMahon,  in  his  history  of  Maryland,  says:  "The  tea- 
burning  at  Boston  has  acquired  renown,  as  an  act  of  unex 
ampled  daring  at  that  day  in  the  defence  of  American  liber 
ties,  but  the  tea-burning  at  Annapolis,  which  occurred  in  the 
ensuing  fall,  far  surpasses  it  in  the  apparent  deliberation  and 
utter  carelessness  of  concealment  attending  the  bold  meas 
ures  which  led  to  its  accomplishment." 

The  most  noted  of  the  public  buildings  is  the  State  House, 
erected  in  1772  (Joseph  Clarke  was  the  architect),  which 
has  been  the  scene  of  political  and  social  events.  In  the  Sen 
ate  Room,  Washington  surrendered  his  commission  in  1783, 
and  in  this  room  was  ratified  the  treaty  of  peace  with  Great 
Britain  in  that  year,  recognizing  the  independence  of  the 
young  Republic.  Here,  also,  the  first  Constitutional  Con 
vention  met  in  1786.  The  walls  of  the  State  House  are 
appropriately  hung  with  historical  pictures  and  portraits, 
some  of  them  by  Charles  Wilson  Peale,  a  native  of  Annap 
olis. 

St.  John's  College,  built  in  1789,  is  another  interesting 
edifice,  and  its  Green  is  of  historic  interest,  because  it  was 
twice  used  for  the  encampment  of  an  army — by  the  French 
during  the  Revolutionary  War,  and  by  the  Americans  in 
1812. 

The  United  States  Naval  Academy,  which  bears  the  same 
relation  to  the  Navy  that  West  Point  does  to  the  Army,  was 
founded  in  1845.  The  idea  originated  with  George  Ban 
croft,  Secretary  of  the  Navy  in  President  Folk's  Cabinet. 


294  ANNAPOLIS 

Annapolis  still  retains  much  of  its  Eighteenth  Century 
appearance.  The  traveller  finds  delight  in  the  quiet  streets, 
where  low  and  wide  houses  of  red  brick  with  white  facings 
and  columned  porticos  wreathed  with  creepers,  standing  in 
gardens  of  blooming  flowers  and  shrubs,  have  an  old-world 
atmosphere  rarely  met  with  in  this  country. 


THE  SETTLEMENT  OF  MOUNT  DESERT 
WILLIAM    D.   WILLIAMSON 

pOUTRINCOURT,  wishing  to  revive  his  plantation 
•*•  at  Port  Royal,  procured  the  King's  confirmation  of 
the  grant,  upon  condition  of  his  endeavours  to  convert  the 
natives  to  the  Catholic  faith.  In  view  of  both  purposes, 
this  adventurer,  his  son  Biencourt  and  two  Jesuits,  Biard 
and  Masse,  with  several  families  intending  to  become  set 
tlers,  embarked  for  America.  While  on  the  passage,  a 
severe  controversy  arose  between  him  and  the  ecclesiastics; 
in  which  he  boldly  told  them,  "  it  was  his  part  to  rule  them 
on  earth,  and  theirs  only  to  guide  him  to  heaven." 

He  tarried  a  short  time  at  Port  Royal,  and  returning  to 
France,  left  his  son  in  command.  Disdaining  to  be  under 
the  control  of  these  priests,  who  were  merely  invited  by  his 
father  to  reside  in  the  plantation,  Biencourt  threatened  them 
with  corporal  punishment  in  return  for  their  spiritual 
anathemas.  In  such  a  state  of  society,  the  three  could  hardly 
continue  together  until  the  spring.  At  an  early  day,  there 
fore,  the  Jesuits  bade  him  farewell  and  proceeded  westward 
to  Mount  Desert. 

This  was  the  highest,  largest,  and  consequently  the  most 
noted  Island  upon  the  coast.  It  was  "  so  named  by  the 
French,"  perhaps  by  Champlain,  "  on  account  of  the  thir 
teen  high  mountains "  it  exhibited ;  which  were  the  first 
lands  seen  from  the  sea.  It  is  supposed  that  the  place  of  resi 
dence  selected  by  the  missionaries  was  on  the  western  side 
of  the  Pool — a  part  of  the  sound  which  stretches  from  the 
southeasterly  side  of  the  heart  of  the  Island.  Here  they 

295 


296    THE   SETTLEMENT    OF    MOUNT    DESERT 

constructed  and  fortified  an  habitation,  planted  a  garden, 
and  dwelt  five  years;  entering  with  great  zeal  and  untiring 
perseverance  upon  the  work  of  converting  the  natives  to 
Christianity. 

Meanwhile,  Sir  Ferdinando  Gorges,  a  man  never  over 
come  by  discouragements,  was  equally  bold  and  ardent  in 
his  pursuits,  though  of  a  different  character.  "  As  to  the 
coldness  of  the  climate,"  says  he,  "  I  have  had  too  much  ex 
perience  in  the  world  to  be  frightened  with  such  a  blast. 
Many  great  kingdoms,  and  large  territories,  more  northerly 
seated,  and  by  many  degrees  colder,  are  plentifully  inhab 
ited — divers  of  them  being  stored  with  not  better  commodi 
ties  than  these  parts  afford — if  like  industry,  art,  and  labour 
be  used."  He  was  confident ;  yet  so  strangely  had  the  pas 
sion  for  adventures  abated  that  he  could  find  nobody  willing 
to  engage  with  him  either  in  making  settlements  or  dis 
covery.  He,  however,  purchased  a  ship  with  his  own  money 
and  procured  a  master  and  crew  to  make  a  voyage  hither, 
possibly  to  keep  possession  of  the  country  against  the  French, 
though  avowedly  for  the  purposes  of  fishing  and  traffic — 
the  only  objects  supposed  to  be  sufficient  at  this  time  to 
induce  them  to  cross  the  Atlantic.  On  board  the  ship  he 
sent  Richard  Vines,  and  some  others  of  his  servants  in  whom 
he  had  the  most  confidence,  and  this  was  the  course  he  pur 
sued  several  years. 

Among  the  visitants  to  these  Northern  coasts  at  this  period 
was  one  Samuel  Argal,  subsequently  governor  of  South  Vir 
ginia.  Driven  by  a  violent  storm,  he  bore  away  4jr  Saga- 
dahock;  and  coming  in  sight  of  a  small,  rocky  island  out 
of  Penobscot  Bay,  in  lattitude  43°  44',  he  approached  it 
as  the  wind  abated,  and  on  the  28th  of  July  landed  upon  it. 
Here  he  found  a  great  store  "  of  seals,  and  therefore  called 
it  Seal  Rock,"  a  name  it  still  retains.  Another  visitor  was 
Sir  George  Somers,  who  landed  at  Sagadahock  in  Septem- 


THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   MOUNT   DESERT    297 

her,  on  his  way  to  Bermuda.  A  third  was  Capt.  Edward 
Harlow. 

Since  the  Charter  was  obtained,  Gorges  had  been  viewing 
the  American  coast  between  Piscataqua  and  Passamaquoddy 
with  peculiar  intensity  and  predilection,  and  continually 
drawing  from  voyagers,  from  the  natives,  and  in  particular 
from  Richard  Vines,  a  great  variety  of  facts  about  its  situa 
tion,  its  inhabitants,  and  its  resources.  So,  without  doubt, 
other  Englishmen,  as  well  as  he,  had  before  this  noticed 
with  jealousy  and  displeasure  the  progressive  French  settle 
ment  at  Port  Royal,  and  the  residence  of  the  Jesuits  at 
Mount  Desert.  Meanwhile,  an  opportune  transaction  gave 
fresh  vigour  to  the  enterprises  of  the  French  in  this  region. 
Madame  de  Guercheville,  a  Catholic  lady  of  France,  zealous 
for  the  conversion  of  the  American  natives,  after  procuring 
of  de  Monts  a  surrender  of  his  patent,  had  it  all  confirmed 
to  her  by  a  Charter  from  the  King,  excepting  Port  Royal, 
previously  granted  to  Poutrincourt.  She  appointed  one 
Suassaye  her  agent,  who  set  up  at  Port  le  Hive,  in  Acadia, 
where  he  arrived  May  i6th,  the  arms  of  his  mistress  in  token 
of  possession  taken;  and  at  Port  Royal  he  made  a  visit, 
where  he  found  only  five  persons,  of  whom  two  were  Jesuit 
missionaries.  Suassaye,  producing  his  pious  credentials,  took 
both  monks  into  the  service  of  the  mission,  and  sailed  for 
Mount  Desert.  Here  twenty-five  colonists  were  landed  on 
the  south  side  of  the  river ;  a  small  fort  was  built ;  the  ship's 
crew  of  thirty-five  men  helped  fit  up  the  habitations ;  and  here 
they  set  up  a  cross,  celebrated  mass,  and  called  the  place 
St.  Saviour.  Whether  this  was  on  the  eastern  end  of  the 
island,  as  one  account  states,  or  in  the  southerly  part,  as 
others  report,  where  Biard  and  Masse  were  residing,  we  have 
no  means  at  this  time  to  determine. 

But  scarcely  had  these  emigrants  provided  themselves  with 
some  few  accommodations,  when  they  had  to  encounter  new 


298    THE    SETTLEMENT    OF   MOUNT    DESERT 

and  unexpected  troubles  from  the  English.  Capt.  Argal 
of  Virginia,  in  a  fishing  trip  to  these  waters,  being  cast 
ashore  at  Pentagoet,  or  Penobscot  Bay,  was  there  fully  in 
formed  by  the  natives  what  the  French  were  doing  at  St. 
Saviour,  sometimes  called  Mount  Mansel. 

This  intelligence  he  immediately  communicated  to  the 
Virginia  magistrates,  and  they  at  once  determined  to  expel 
these  Catholic  Frenchmen  as  obtruders  within  the  limits 
of  the  first  Charter  granted  to  the  patentees  of  North  and 
South  Virginia.  Eleven  fishing  vessels  were  speedily  equipped, 
carrying  sixty  soldiers  and  fourteen  pieces  of  cannon,  and  of 
this  little  armament  Argal  was  appointed  the  commodore. 
His  first  approach  completely  surprised  the  French;  yet 
having  a  ship  and  a  barque  in  the  harbour,  and  "  a  small 
entrenchment  "  on  shore,  they  made  a  show  of  resistance. 
This  was  all  they  were  able  to  do,  for  the  cannon  were  not 
in  a  situation  to  be  used,  and  the  men  were  mostly  absent 
from  the  fort,  engaged  in  their  respective  employments. 

Argal,  in  his  attack  upon  the  vessels  found  the  capture  of 
them  to  be  no  difficult  task,  even  with  musketry.  Gilbert 
du  Thet,  one  of  the  Jesuits,  was  killed  by  a  musket-ball 
while  in  the  act  of  levelling  a  ship's  gun  against  the  assail 
ants;  others  were  wounded,  and  those  on  board,  except 
four  or  five,  were  taken  prisoners.  Argal  then  landed  and 
summoned  the  fort.  The  commander  requested  time  for 
a  consultation,  but  through  fear  of  his  being  reinforced,  his 
request  was  not  granted.  The  garrison  then  abandoning 
the  fort  through  a  private  passage,  escaped  to  the  woods. 
After  breaking  in  pieces  the  cross  which  the  Jesuits  had 
erected,  Argal  reared  another  inscribed  with  the  name  of 
his  king,  and  in  this  way  took  formal  possession  of  the 
place. 

The  people  came  in  the  next  day  and  surrendered  them 
selves,  their  patent,  and  their  stores.  Argal  treated  them 


THE   SETTLEMENT    OF   MOUNT   DESERT    299 

with  kindness,  and  gave  them  their  choice,  either  to  return 
home  in  such  French  vessels  as  might  perchance  resort  to 
the  coast,  or  to  go  with  him  to  Virginia. 

To  complete  the  reduction  of  Acadia,  the  fleet  sailed  far 
ther  eastward,  piloted,  as  some  say,  by  the  Jesuit  Father 
Biard,  who  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  avenge  himself 
of  Biencourt,  or,  as  others  affirm,  by  an  Indian  whom  Argal 
had  pressed  into  his  service.  At  St.  Croix  Island,  he  "  took 
one  vessel,"  destroyed  what  remained  of  de  Monts's  settle 
ments,  and  crossing  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  came  to  anchor 
before  Port  Royal. 

The  French  at  the  time  were  mostly  absent  from  the 
fort;  Biencourt  being  employed  in  exploring  the  country, 
and  others  differently  engaged.  Argal,  therefore,  lost  no 
time,  and  in  two  hours  after  he  had  landed  his  men  he  re 
duced  the  entire  settlement  to  ashes. 

The  two  commanders  afterwards  had  a  meeting  in  a 
neighbouring  meadow  and  discussed  the  subjects  of  their 
rights  and  claims,  when  Biencourt  made  proposals  to  nego 
tiate;  but  Argal  in  return  said  his  only  orders  were  to  dis 
possess  the  French,  and  if  they  should  be  found  there  again, 
they  would  be  treated  as  enemies.  In  this  mood  they 
parted;  and  Argal  carried  the  French  ship,  pinnace,  cattle, 
and  provisions  to  Jamestown. 


SANTA   FE1 
CLARENCE   A.   MILLER 

SANTA  FE  is  interesting  mainly  as  the  seat  of  three 
widely  differing  civilizations.  These,  though  successive, 
were  gradually  so.  The  last  two  coexist.  The  first  pro 
jected  itself  in  lighter  and  lighter  shades  through  the  second ; 
and  perhaps  even  yet,  with  a  subtle  pervasion  through  the 
Mexican  life  and  character,  looks  about  its  old  home  and 
its  ruined  buildings,  like  a  ghost  of  a  shadow. 

Relics  found  along  the  Santa  Fe  valley  show  that  the 
city  enjoyed  its  greatest  prosperity  and  grandeur  as  a  pre 
historic  Aztec  pueblo.  The  glories,  wealth,  and  achieve 
ments  of  Aztec  civilization  are  more  for  imagination  to 
outline  than  for  history  to  describe.  From  accounts  of  Span 
ish  warriors,  priests,  and  explorers,  from  ruins  and  hiero 
glyphics,  from  Aztec  language,  tradition,  mythology,  and 
custom,  we  can  gather  enough  to  excite  deep  interest  in  and 
sympathy  with  the  unhappy  people  of  Montezuma.  We 
know  enough  to  induce  investigators  to  enter  the  field  dis 
closed,  and  by  close  life  with  the  remnants  of  tribes  to 
explore  it  more  thoroughly.  Spain,  by  virtue  of  gunpowder 
and  treachery,  overcame  the  native  races,  robbed  them  of 
their  wealth  and  freedom,  killed  their  chiefs,  and  stamped 
out  their  sacred  fires;  but  we  know  enough  of  what  Spain 
thus  destroyed  to  doubt  that  the  civilization  that  she  sub 
stituted  was  much  of  an  improvement. 

The  Indians  tell  a  story  of  the  birth  of  Montezuma  near 

the  southern   extremity  of  the   Santa  Fe  mountain   range; 

of  his  journey  southward  on  the  back  of  an  eagle,  the  peo- 

1  By  kind  permission  of  the  Overland  Monthly. 

300 


SANTA   FE  301 

pie  following  and  founding  cities  where  the  eagle  had  nested 
each  night ;  and  of  the  founding  of  the  capital  city  of  Mexico 
at  the  end  of  the  long  march.  This  myth  suggests  that 
New  Mexico  is  in  reality  the  old  Mexico,  and  was  once  the 
centre  of  Aztec  power  and  culture,  and  that  the  tribes 
found  there  by  the  Spanish  were  but  the  weak  and  unpro- 
gressive  of  the  race.  They  were  not  of  the  stuff  of  which 
Argonauts  are  made.  They  had  looked  askance  at  fortune, 
and  their  faint  hearts  did  not  win  her  encouragement.  So 
they  had  quietly  stayed  in  the  peaceful  and  fruitful  fields 
of  the  Rio  Grande,  or  laboured  at  the  old  turquoise  mine 
by  day,  and  spent  the  nights  in  their  safe,  rock-protected 
pueblos.  Their  prudence  brought  a  tame  prosperity,  which 
met  a  common  fate  at  Spanish  hands  with  that  of  their 
more  adventurous  brethren. 

About  1538,  when  the  masts  of  the  Mayflower  yet 
grew  in  the  forest  and  the  Pilgrim  grandfathers  were  in 
their  cradles,  Cabeza  de  Vaca,  a  Spanish  ^Eneas,  led  his 
shipwrecked  party  through  the  Rio  Grande  valley.  Priests, 
chieftains,  and  explorers  followed,  each  drawn  by  zeal  in 
his  profession,  until,  by  1600,  the  country  was  overrun  with 
Spaniards.  The  Indians  were  enslaved,  and  toiled  in  the 
mines,  that  hidalgoes  might  wear  jewels.  A  successful  re 
volt  in  1680  freed  the  Indians,  until  De  Vargas,  about  a 
dozen  years  after,  reconquered  them. 

The  third  civilization  appeared  on  the  scene  in  the  first  dec 
ade  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.  Not  conquest,  not  religion, 
but  trade  was  the  incentive ;  for  the  newcomer  was  a  Saxon, 
and  particularly  a  Yankee  one.  Profit  multiplied  his  foot 
steps  into  a  well-defined  trail  to  the  Missouri  River,  and 
the  waggon  road  that  the  traveller  on  the  Atchinson,  Topeka 
and  Santa  Fe  Railroad  sees  continually  near  the  track  is 
the  same  old  Santa  Fe  trail. 

The  Rio  Santa  Fe  boldly  rushes  through  the  centre  of 


302  SANTA   FE 

the  town,  putting  to  its  left  the  staid  old  Mexican  residence 
portion  that  clusters  around  venerable  San  Miguel,  and  re 
serving  to  its  right  the  blocks  where  American  business  moves 
on,  though  slowly,  and  weighted  with  Mexican  conservatism. 

The  town,  on  the  whole,  is  sleepy  and  ancient  looking; 
crooked  streets,  too  narrow  for  but  one  sidewalk,  find  their 
ways  like  paths  among  the  jutting,  irregular  fronts  of  adobe 
buildings.  Then  there  is  the  Plaza,  a  Spanish  feature  which 
always  makes  small  towns  look  less  like  lively  cities  than  ever. 
Around  this  are  most  of  the  American  business  buildings, 
but  Mexican  adobe  structures  are  inserted  between  them. 
The  old  crooked  walls  of  Jesus  Ascencion  Garcia's  Broad 
Gauge  Saloon  are  buttressed  by  a  brand  new  brick  bank 
building.  On  the  street  a  stylish  dog-cart  dashes  past  its 
original  undeveloped  type — a  great,  heavy  structure  resting 
on  two  oxen  and  two  thick  discs  of  wood,  which  creak  on 
wooden  axles.  More  primitive  even  than  that,  comes  a 
drove  of  small  donkeys  known  as  burros,  each  bearing  much 
more  than  his  bulk  of  cord-wood  or  hay,  and  all  driven  by 
an  Indian  from  the  pueblo  of  Tesuque  or  by  a  darker-looking 
Mexican. 

On  Sunday  afternoons  it  has  been  the  custom  of  all  Santa 
Fe  to  promenade  on  the  Plaza.  Time  was  when  the  Plaza 
was  a  bare  market-place,  but  American  innovation  and  im 
provement  has  made  it  a  park.  In  the  centre  a  monument 
commemorates  the  soldiers  who  died  for  the  Union  in  New 
Mexico.  Here  are  fountains  supplied  from  the  Santa  Fe 
reservoir  three  miles  away.  A  heavy  growth  of  alfalfa 
covers  the  ground,  and  cottonwoods  wave  above.  The  mili 
tary  band  plays  in  the  pavilion,  and  the  audience  is  of  many 
nationalities  and  languages,  drawn  here  by  music,  the  lan 
guage  of  the  world.  They  fill  the  benches  in  the  park ;  they 
throng  the  long  veranda  of  the  old  Palace;  they  promenade 
along  the  paths,  or  drive  stylish  teams.  There  are  Mexican 


SANTA   FE  303 

matrons,  with  the  indispensable  mantilla,  a  head-dress  after 
the  manner  of  some  village  gossip  who  is  just  going  over  to 
some  neighbour  with  a  bit  of  news.  Their  faces  are  old 
and  wrinkled — sad  prophecy  of  the  future  in  store  for  the 
fresh  faces  of  the  young  senoritas/ 

Here  carefully  steps  an  invalid,  watchful  of  his  small 
reserve  of  strength,  and  enjoying  the  air  which  he  came  so 
far  to  breathe.  Yonder  are  negroes,  in  conspicuous  spirits 
and  health,  delighting  in  bright  colours.  A  party  of  tour 
ists  pass  the  monument,  and  read  every  inscription,  because 
it  is  their  duty  to.  They  are  here  but  two  days,  and  must 
see  everything.  Who  can  learn  about  three  centuries  in 
two  days?  A  glimpse  of  a  switching  cue  shows  that  Santa 
Fe  is  not  unblessed  with  Chinese.  On  a  bench  near  by, 
three  or  four  soldiers  from  the  military  quarter,  in  bright 
uniform,  lounge  and  gaze  at  the  passing  senoritas.  These 
Mexican  maidens  have  discarded  the  mantilla  for  the  nonce, 
and  in  Sunday  bonnets  and  ribbons  suited  to  their  dark  faces, 
move  gaily  past,  "  with  all  their  bravery  on,  and  tackle 
trim."  A  representative  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  influ 
ential  class  of  Santa  Fe  passes  in  the  contented-looking  per 
son  of  a  Jew  with  his  wife;  they  are  followed  by  an  unmis 
takable  Bridget  with  their  little  Jewish  baby. 

Pueblo  Indians  attract  attention  amid  the  crowd  by  the 
profusion  of  red  colour  in  their  principal  garment.  This 
blanket  is  thrown  loosely  about  the  body,  and  seems  always 
about  to  fall  to  the  ground.  They  wear  white  leggins,  look 
ing  as  if  cut  when  loose  trousers  were  in  vogue,  and  since 
then  made  tight  and  stylish  by  an  extra  seam.  The  red 
paint  on  their  cheeks  is  so  blended  with  their  bronze  colour 
as  to  produce  a  by  no  means  bad  effect.  The  hair  is  black, 
and  too  coarse  to  seem  human.  It  reaches  everywhere  down 
from  the  crown  like  a  thatch  on  a  hay-stack,  and  in  front  is 
cut  off  square  with  the  eyebrows,  banged,  without  a  doubt, 


3o4  SANTA   FE 

and  we  were  centuries  behind  when  we  adopted  the  style. 
The  beauty  of  this  coiffure,  though  sometimes  adorned  on 
state  occasions  by  a  feather  or  two,  is  always  unconcealed. 
Whether  the  Indian  is  selling  fish  in  the  streets,  or  ploughing 
behind  his  black  and  white  oxen  with  a  stick  for  a  plough 
share,  or  making  Aztec  pottery  in  front  of  the  laddered  en 
trance  to  his  house,  he  is  bareheaded. 

Castilian  ladies,  though  rarely  seen  in  public,  appear  on 
these  Sunday  afternoons.  The  quiet  dress  and  demeanour, 
and  the  intelligence  seen  in  the  countenances,  give  evidence 
of  the  advantages  of  families  of  long-continued  wealth,  power 
and  culture.  But  the  power  was  hereditary;  the  culture  was 
made  possible  by  leisure  afforded  by  wealth;  and  the  wealth 
came  as  large  land-grants,  gifts  of  a  government  ever  partial 
to  its  nobility;  a  government  possessed  of  land  undiminish?d 
by  any  homestead  laws  for  the  benefit  of  its  common  people. 

To  this  bright-coloured  crowd  of  human  contrasts,  thus 
moving  among  themselves,  the  long,  one-story  palace  is  a 
background.  Its  stirring  history  comes  to  the  mind  in  pic 
tures  quickened  and  made  vivid  by  the  heroic  music  of  the 
bands,  a  background  to  the  thought.  The  park  is  gone; 
Indians  are  toiling  with  huge  blocks  of  adobe,  building  thick 
walls  for  the  palace  that  will  stand  so  long.  Now  comes  the 
resplendent  Spanish  army — they  enter  in  triumph — they 
christen  with  the  new  name  Santa  Fe.  Many  affairs  of 
state  follow;  decorations  and  costumes  brighten  the  scenes. 

Now  it  is  dark  and  still ;  a  light  from  the  palace  window 
aids  the  Captain-General  within  to  plan  his  battles  from  the 
surrounding  maps.  Troops  gather  on  the  Plaza  by  early 
morning.  When  they  return,  they  lead  captives  within  those 
gloomy  walls.  Some  are  led  out  again  to  be  shot;  others 
remain — their  fate,  quien  sabe?  All  is  again  changed;  In 
dians  supplant  the  native  Spaniards;  heathen  rites  and  the 
cachlna  dance  celebrate  success.  Now,  between  lines  of  men 


SANTA   FE  305 

on  the  one  hand  and  women  on  the  other,  De  Vargas  and 
his  band  make  their  triumphal  entry;  Te  Deum  laudamus, 
sing  the  priests.  The  man  of  the  palace  is  again  a  Spaniard. 
Now  more  familiar  faces  appear — sun-browned,  but  shrewd. 
They  come  with  long  waggon  trains  and  mule  teams  and 
cracking  whips;  the  town  gathers  to  receive  them  as  to  a 
great  event  long  looked  for.  Another  rebellion,  and  a  tur 
bulent  crowd  follows  a  man  carrying  a  human  head — that 
of  Governor  Perez.  With  Mexican  suddenness,  change 
again  occurs,  and  the  Plaza  is  again  the  scene  of  the  cus 
tomary  wholesale  execution  of  gentlemen  with  political  tastes. 

Now  appear  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and  soldiers  in  our 
uniform  of  the  Mexican  War.  Rebels  succeed  and  tear  down 
the  flag,  but  the  reign  of  the  Stars  and  Bars  is  soon  over. 

What  unknown  scenes  and  events  those  thick  palace  walls 
have  concealed!  How  well  they  have  kept  their  secrets; 
like  Hamlet's  friends,  they  disclose  nothing  in  their  dull 
looks — not  even  a  wise  "  we  could  an'  if  we  would."  Santa 
Fe  is  full  of  churches,  cathedrals,  and  religious  schools. 
Everyone  has  heard  of  San  Miguel,  part  of  whose  adobe 
walls  have  been  standing  for  nearly  three  hundred  years,  and 
which  has  stood  in  its  entirety  as  at  present  since  1710.  The 
visitor  is  directed  by  a  notice  that  he  is  to  pull  a  cord  three 
times;  a  deep-toned  bell  solemnly  responds  to  the  action, 
and  this  somewhat  mysterious  preliminary  brings  to  the  door 
a  boyish-looking  "  brother,"  who  repays  one's  entrance  fee 
with  a  description  of  the  objects  of  interest.  The  old,  clear- 
toned  bell  is  of  pure  copper ;  the  carved  vigas  are  quaint  and 
curious;  the  paintings  are  the  same  sort  of  works  of  early 
Spanish-American  art  (it  is  a  pity  to  apply  that  word  to 
them)  that  is  to  be  found  in  all  the  old  churches  of  New 
Mexico.  Opposite  San  Miguel  is  an  old  pueblo  house,  ap 
parently  used  by  several  Mexican  families.  It  is  the  oldest 
house  in  this  old  town. 


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Book  Slip-50m-8,'66(G5530s4)458 


N2  477720 

E179 
Singleton,  E.  S613 

Historic  landmarks 
of  America. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


